


More Than Friends

by celestialenigma



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Drama, Family Feels, Fluff, Gay For You, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-12
Updated: 2015-03-09
Packaged: 2018-03-12 00:19:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 49,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3337538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celestialenigma/pseuds/celestialenigma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU- Death strikes hard, and thrusts Arthur and Francis out of their comfort zones. The two men become neighbours and the boys under their care become fast friends. Matt and Alfred. Arthur and Francis. Will they ever be more than friends?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there. I'm back with another story. This is an AU, with an undertone of FACE family (but not quite, you'll see). This chapter is a teaser for the rest of it. Most of the story has been written, but is still in the edit and tweaking mode. I needed to post something though because I was terribly afraid of just giving up on it. Now I can't and have to finish it, no matter what I think about it. Hmm, so I hope that you gain some enjoyment from it. I've been working so hard on it that my eyes feel like bleeding.
> 
> The main pairing is AmeCan (because whenever I put them in a story, they take over regardless of any original plans to the contrary). There is a nice heaping side of FrUk though.

**Prologue**

 

 **Montréal** , **Quebec 2008**

 

Giggles filled the room as clothing flew off of their bodies. Francis laid down on the bed, arms behind his head as he watched the blurry shape of his friend climb atop him. Her soft locks of blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders as she steadied herself.

 

“I wonder what it'll be like to be with a man,” slurred Leona with a sigh as she lowered herself with a gasp, “First time for everything.”

 

Francis moaned in the darkness of the night, closing his eyes against the spin of the room as he let himself simply feel.

 

#

 

Five weeks later, Leona came into Francis' dorm room. She sat on his roommate’s bed, since the guy was out at classes for the day. Francis had some classes himself, but his friend had told him that what she needed to tell him was very important.

 

Her hair was back in a tight bun, only a single strand of curly hair escaped the confinement and flew free in front of her face. She looked pale and faintly ill.

 

Smiling, Francis pulled out a bottle of wine from the bar-fridge in the middle of the room and opened it, “Would you like some?”

 

When Leona slapped a hand over her mouth and ran to the bathroom, Francis sniffed at the drink. It smelled normal, perfectly fine in fact, since Francis refused to have sub par wine. He put down the bottle and grabbed a clean cup. Filling it with water from the tap and taking a cloth from a nearby shelf, Francis knelt beside his friend.

 

After she leaned back and flushed her sick down the toilet, Leona looked up at Francis, “I'm pregnant.”

 

She took the cloth and wiped her mouth and then took a sip of the water, which she swished in her mouth and then spit out into the toilet.

 

Francis blinked in surprise. Once, twice, “Huh?”

 

“You know, from our drunken night. The one that Heather is only just now forgiving me for.”

 

Scrubbing a hand over his face, Francis said, “Are you sure?”

 

“Of course I am. Pregnancy tests rarely give a false positive.”

 

“But-”

 

“Plus I've been to the doctor. She did a blood test.”

 

Sweeping back his blonde hair into a ponytail, Francis tied it off and then said, “So what now?”

 

“Heather and I plan to raise him or her. You are, of course, welcome to visit and spend time with the child.”

 

“W-will I have to help raise it? Because I must say, I am not really fit to be a father. I don't even want to be one. I mean, I'll help you out with money and during your pregnancy. But-”

 

Leona placed a hand on Francis' shoulder, “I know. You're a good man. That's why I'm friends with you, I wouldn't be otherwise. But I'm sort of happy this happened, in a way.”

 

“You like morning sickness?” said Francis, chuckling nervously afterwards.

 

“No. That's been awful. I was just thinking about how Heather and I always planned to get married and adopt a child or try artificial insemination. This has happened a few years sooner than we'd planned for.”

 

Standing up and holding out a hand for his friend, Francis said, “Well, I'm glad that you are okay. You will, of course, tell me as soon as that changes, non?”

 

“Of course. I won't hesitate to complain to you at all. You were, after all, the one who did this to me,” said Leona, raising a brow.

 

#

 

**2009, Montréal, Quebec**

 

Francis snuffed out his cigarette in the little metal box in the smoking area and stuffed his hands into his pockets. A chill wind blew right through his hair and he shivered. He took a few steps up the sidewalk towards the hospital and then turned, pacing.

 

Really, he had no idea why he was hesitating. He'd been assured that he wouldn't have to take care of the child. He wouldn't have to change dirty diapers and stay awake at all hours of the night doing feedings and being puked on. Leona had Heather and they were incredibly excited for this baby.

 

All he had to do was go upstairs, meet his son, hold him for a bit and then say goodbye. He'd be back to visit plenty of times, of course. This just meant that he didn't have to give up his sexy and sleek car for one that could fit a car-seat.

 

His other friends Antonio and Gilbert even agreed that this was for the best.

 

So why did he feel that seeing this child would change everything?

 

When he saw the ultrasound photos, he'd barely felt anything. Francis had barely seen more than a vaguely baby shaped grey blob after all.

 

Just when he was nearly back at his car, he sucked in a deep breath.

 

He could do this. Leona, one of his closest friends from university, had just delivered a child. It couldn't have been easy; he knew because Leona had made him watch a child-birth video with her and he hadn't slept that night.

 

Francis, in a blatant attempt at further delay, went into the gift shop. He browsed, not even sure what he was looking for. Something for Leona? Something for the baby?

 

Then he saw it. A soft, white polar bear. Cute. He'd get that. There was a tag on it that read 'Kumajirou'. Must be imported from Japan or something.

 

Francis shrugged, bought the toy and went to the Maternity Ward.

 

He knocked at the door that his friend was in and waved. Heather greeted him cordially, not at all that pleased with him since he and Leona had had that one night of drunken sex.

 

“Bonjour ma chère, how are you?” he said, hoping that his voice didn't tremble as he caught sight of a bundle of blankets in Leona’s arms.

 

“Tired and sore. I managed to do it without an epidural, though just barely. Only Heather's presence got me through to the end without one,” said Leona, smiling at her lover with a half-lidded and exhausted gaze.

 

“The female body never ceases to amaze me,” cooed Francis, almost at the side of the bed, refusing to look down.

 

Heather looked as if she wanted to make a comment on that, but thinned her lips and said, “We are glad you are here.”

 

“Well I don't think that you are but that's alright. I can't be here long. I got this for the baby,” he said, holding the bear out to Heather who took it and put it on the table beside the rolling hospital bassinet.

 

“We decided on the name Mathieu. Do you like it?” said Leona, holding.

 

“Mmm, hmmm. You know, maybe I will go now,” said Francis, voice quaking and almost running across the room.

 

“Francis Bonnefoy, get your ass over here and hold your son. I know I said I don't care what sort of role you play in this boy's life and I mean it. But you **WILL** hold him at least once,” ordered Leona in a soft voice so as not to startle the infant.

 

So he did. He carefully, oh so gently, took that bundle of infant and looked down. Mathieu's eyes slid open, glazed and unfocused. They were such a deep blue. That little button nose, pink lips moving as if they were trying to suckle.

 

Francis moved aside the knit blue cap and saw the fine, barely there blond hair.

 

And smiled.

 

His child.

 

“Wow,” was all he could whisper into the room which felt as if it contained only his son and himself.

 

#

 

**Outside of Toronto, Ontario 2009, a few days later**

 

Arthur Kirkland hummed under his breath as he walked through the doors of the large home he lived in. School had felt so long that day. He just wanted the day to end and the bus ride home had taken forever. He'd wanted to stay home, but his father had told him that he wasn't allowed to skip classes.

 

Of course, Arthur had to listen. Being fourteen really sucked sometimes.

 

His mother was delivering his baby brother. She was doing so at home, having changed over one of their guest rooms for the purpose of having an at-home delivery room.

 

Man, he was so excited. He'd always been an only child and had always lived outside of the city so there hadn't been too many people to hang out with.

 

He walked up the stairs. No point in making his old man grumpy by not 'acting his age'. So he moved at an appropriate pace.

 

Arthur's father nodded at him from the end of the hallway and said, “Nursery.”

 

He went up to the area where the nursery had been made up for a few months. It was a mix of greens and yellows, subtle and tasteful decor. The only sign that the room was even for a baby was the crib off to one side and the mobile hanging over it.

 

Arthur had used some money from his allowance to buy it and had argued with his parents until they let him put it up. It was a fun mobile filled with rocket ships, space aliens and planets. It wasn't that Arthur really cared for those things or anything. He just saw it when walking downtown, in the window of a baby shop.

 

Instantly he remember his own stifled childhood of education and being seen but not heard. A childhood of very little toys and way too many educational books.

 

He'd just had to buy it for his little baby brother or sister.

 

Peering down into the crib with excited eyes, he saw the baby sleeping, swaddled up in blankets. He brought out his hand and lightly touched the child's soft cheek.

 

“His name is Alfred,” said his father's voice from the door, with a sense of pride in it.

 

As stifled as his parents were, Arthur knew that they loved him and would love his brother just as much.

 

Still, Arthur looked down and met the now opened sky-blue eyes, “Don't worry. I'll take care of you, alright. A baby brother. Wow.”

 

#

 

**Spring 2014- Kitchener-Waterloo, Ontario**

The textbook fell closed with a faint slapping of pages. Arthur set his hands atop the huge book and sighed in relief. He'd been studying all day for a paper that he needed to write for this course. It was his first semester at the University of Waterloo and he felt as if he were in his element. Studies were his life. His English Lit major was going to be hard but worth it.

 

The library only had a few people in it at that time of night, all quiet and nose deep in their books. He grabbed his shoulder bag and headed out to the parking lot where his rusty sedan sat.

 

He'd had to buy the car himself, which he didn't mind. It'd given him a sense of pride to provide for himself.

 

His father and mother had hit rough times recently. They'd paid for his first year of University a while ago, but Arthur had to get a part time job to pay for the rest. He'd also probably have to get a student loan for the rest, but he wasn't worried about it. It would all work out.

 

Wile driving to the place that he shared with four other gentlemen, his phone rang. He let it go to voice mail and check it later.

 

However when it rang again very shortly afterwards, he pulled to the side of the road and answered it, his still English-accented voice ringing out through the car, “Hello, Arthur Kirkland speaking.”

 

“Good evening sir, I am calling on behalf of Child Protection Services and the Ontario Provincial Police. I need to ask you to come speak with me in person.”

 

“I-” started Arthur, mind racing.

 

Why was the OPP calling? And why was Child Protection Services also mentioned? What was going on?

 

“Sure, uh where do I go?”

 

#

 

He'd needed to go to Toronto and got there in about a hour and a half. There had been a bit of traffic and he'd wanted to show every person rude gestures. Every bit of his focus that wasn't on driving was on not losing his cool. He needed to stay calm, because he had no idea why exactly he had to go to a Toronto Police station.

 

He parked fast and jumped out of his car, running into the reception. He was told to wait and before long an officer came along with a woman in a grey pantsuit. They checked his ID first, of course, to make sure he was who he claimed to be.

 

Arthur was led to a little sitting room with a few chairs and a couch. He chose a chair.

 

“Would you care for a drink?” said the woman in the pantsuit.

 

Arthur shook his head, “No thank you. I'm tired, I've been at school all day and have my job in the morning. I'd like to cut to the chase if you would.”

 

“Well sir, I deeply regret to inform you that your parents were involved in a car accident. They were both dead on arrival.”

 

“What...” whispered Arthur, gripping the arm of the chair, his nails digging into the fabric.

 

“I am truly sorry for your loss.”

 

Then he thought of something, “What about my brother? Was he in the car? How is he?”

 

“He wasn't in the vehicle. I was sent to pick him up from his school. I'm his social worker.”

 

Arthur rested his head on the back of the chair and looked at a ceiling fan whirl lazily, “Where is he now?”

 

“In a room down the hall. He's been asking for you. Would you like to see him?”

 

He got to his feet right away. There was no time for his own grief. He had to suck it up for his brother's sake.

 

“Of course.”

 

The room was pretty small, there was room for a couch and a tiny shelf of toys. Alfred was curled in a ball in the corner of the sofa, knees drawn to his chest. His eyes were rimmed with red and there were tears trailing down his cheeks.

 

“Arthur!” cried the boy as soon as their eyes met and launched himself into his older sibling's arms.

 

“Shhh, it's okay lad. I'm here.”

 

“Where are Mommy and Daddy? The lady said that they were dead. Why would she lie? I thought police guys weren't supposed to tell fibs,” asked Alfred in a small and quivering voice.

 

The boy's face was a mess of tears and his nose was runny. Arthur grabbed a nearby tissue and wiped the child's face clean and said, “She wasn't lying. Mother and father are dead”

 

Alfred shook his head, “Nuh-uh. They can't die.”

 

“I'm sorry, but they died this afternoon.”

 

“No....” and Alfred promptly burst into a fresh bout of tears, burying his head in Arthur's sweater vest.

 

#

 

**Later that week**

 

With Alfred finally asleep on a couch, Arthur paced back and forth in the office of the social worker he'd met that first night. She was, once again, in a grey pantsuit and had her hands folding in front of her on the desk. The little boy hadn't wanted to be parted from him for even a second since their parents had died. He'd had to deal with a distraught child, plus dealing with his parent's final arrangements.

 

Now he had this bitch trying to pull this on him?

 

“Now you see here! I don't care that I'm only nineteen years old. I'm all that kid has in the world. We don't have any other family. You and your stupid ideas of what's best for us aren't going to take him away from me.”

 

“I'm just questioning whether or not you can provide a stable home for him. It would be better if he went into a foster home now than later if you decide that you can't care for a young child. Think about how devastating that would be for him. I understand that you are going through a lot, but you need to think about what is best for Alfred.”

 

Logically, of course, Arthur knew that made sense. He knew that this lady was only looking out for the best for him and Alfred. However he was upset, grieving, and not in the mood to be civil.

 

“Think of how he'll feel if I just give up on him. That's not going to happen.”

 

“Where will you live? You go to school in the Kitchener-Waterloo area. His home is in this area.”

 

“I'll sell my parent's house and buy one in KW. I know that my parents had enough savings to last me until I can arrange everything,” said Arthur, but half of the words were probably snarled.

 

“What about your schooling? It will be hard to balance school and a child, as well as a job,” the social worker pointed out, calmly.

 

“Teen mothers do it all the time. Why can't I?”

 

“I'm not doubting your ability, simply trying to get you to think over all of your options.”

 

Arthur grit his teeth. He decided a while ago that telling this lady to shove it wouldn't solve any of his problems.

 

“I have thought about it and I will do this, even if I have to hire a lawyer.”

 

Right then, Alfred sat up really fast with a scream, “Arthur?”

 

Arthur knelt by the boy's seat and petted his head, “I'm here, and I'm never going anywhere. Okay?”

 

He gave a pointed look at the social worker, who did look sympathetic.

 

#

 

**Around that time in Montreal**

 

Francis ran his fingers through his hair for the tenth time in nearly as many minutes. He stood on the balcony and struck a match, shielding the flame against the wind. He lit the cigarette in his mouth and took a deep draw.

 

Balanced on the railing was a mug filled with the butts of his previously smokes. It wasn't enough. It couldn't be.

 

God, he didn't even know that this kind of thing happened to regular people.

 

He'd been in France in a meeting with a client of the firm he worked for. He was showing them his latest designs for the fall clothing line. It had gone so well that he'd gone to a club and picked up a very handsome young man for the night for some celebration sex.

 

Naked and panting over the trick he'd brought back to his hotel room, his cell phone had begun to ring. When it wouldn't stop, he'd answered.

 

And his whole world had changed.

 

Francis had to fly back to Quebec. Leona and Heather had been killed in a shooting in a plaza. Wrong place, wrong time.

 

Mathieu had been with a neighbour, being babysat.

 

Now Francis had to step up and become a father.

 

He really, really didn't want that. He didn't know how to do something like that.

 

Francis knew fashion. He knew wine, ladies, men and hedonistic indulgence. He didn't know how to care for a child.

 

Oh sure, he'd been there for Birthdays and showed up for holidays. Whenever he was in Quebec, he'd make some time to see the kid. But he'd never had to do more than take Mathieu out for some food or to a park.

 

Francis snubbed out his smoke and went back inside. Mathieu was sitting under the kitchen table, hugging his polar bear to his chest. He wasn't crying, he hadn't since he'd arrived. The little boy just kept staring at nothing, responding in soft whispers when asked a question.

 

Mon Dieu! Francis wondered what was wrong with himself. This child was clearly suffering and not saying anything. He needed to do something and stop thinking of himself for a while.

 

“Mathieu? Mon petit ange. Can you come out here?”

 

Ever the obedient little boy, Mathieu did as he was asked, but didn't look Francis in the eyes.

 

“I know this is hard. I know you loved your mothers. You'll have to forgive me a bit though, I'm not used to being a papa. Do you think you can help me learn how to do this?”

 

Mathieu nodded, a curl of blond hair falling over his eyes. Francis pressed a kiss to the boy's forehead. So cute.

 

“You're a good boy.”

 

Yes. Francis would make this work, and not just because he didn't have much of a choice. He needed to do this for his son.

 

Everything would work out just fine.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next one. I'm nervous about the flow of, and the events of this story. I hope that it's good enough.
> 
> Reviews make me happy.

**Chapter Two**

 

**Autumn 2014-Kitchener-Waterloo**

 

A high August sun pounded down on the freshly mowed lawn. The grass felt prickly under Mathieu's feet but he didn't care. He felt the tears sting at his eyes but didn't want to let them out. Not until he was away. He wanted to hide somewhere.

 

Clutching his stuffed bear, Kuma, to his chest he went into the small grove of trees and bushes in the backyard of his new home. Along the wooden fence separating his house from the one next door, Mathieu hid behind a bush.

 

He knew his Papa loved him and tried hard. Just, sometimes, Mathieu felt as if his Papa forgot about him. His mommies had always been hugging him and giving him kisses. They always took him outside everyday and played toys with him. He would spend days colouring and having so much fun.

 

But Papa only did those things sometimes. Papa was a busy man and was holed up in the office of their new home, sketching and draping fabric over the big plastic people he had. Manne-somethings. Mathieu didn't remember what they were called.

 

A wet drop fell down into the dusty brown dirt and Mathieu poked the tear until it absorbed into the ground. He sniffled once, twice and then began to sob.

 

When he heard a faint rustling sound, he looked over to the fence beside him and saw a blue eye peeking at him from between the wooden planks.

 

“Eek! Qui...erm...Who are you?” said Mathieu, forgetting to use his English for a moment.

 

“Who are you?” said the person who owned the eye that was still staring at him, another kid, sounded like a boy. Mathieu thought that the boy might have also had blond hair based on few strands of hair that he could see.

 

“I just asked you that...” he whispered in response, sniffling.

 

“I guess so. I'm Alfred. Heard you cryin'.”

 

“Oh. I'm Mathieu.”

 

“A-choo?”

 

“No, Mathieu.”

 

“That sounds too hard to say. Can I call you Matt?” said Alfred, moving away from the fence enough that Mathieu could see more of his face.

 

“Okay.”

 

“You didn't tell me why you were cryin'.”

 

Mathieu held his bear to his face and tried to hide it, “My mommies died.”

 

“Oh. That's sad. I cried when I lost my mommy and daddy too. But how did you have two mommies?” asked Alfred, voice so fast that Mathieu hardly caught all of that.

 

He took a few seconds to blink and think about what he had been asked before he said, “Um, I had two mommies because my Papa said that they were lesbians.”

 

“What's a lesbian?” asked Alfred, cocking his head to the side and sounding genuinely perplexed.

 

Mathieu shrugged. He had no idea. His Papa said lots of words that he didn't understand. That was just one of the many things he said that Mathieu had no idea about.

 

“I don't know.”

 

Alfred was quiet for a second before nearly yelling, “They were aliens!”

 

“Hmmm? What do you mean?”

 

“From 'out of space'! Aliens. What'd they look like?”

 

Mathieu had long since stopped crying and was trying to figure out this new and strange boy. None of the kids in his kindergarten class back home had been like this, “They looked like people.”

 

“Cool. Aliens who look like people.”

 

“They weren't aliens,” pouted Mathieu.

 

“Lesbians sounds like the name for an alien. Maybe they didn't die and instead went to 'out of space' instead. Where all the planets are.”

 

“Then why didn't they take me?”

 

Alfred looked at him as if the answer was obvious and said, “Because you're a human boy, silly.”

 

“Oh.”

 

That actually did make sense, but, “Then why didn't my Papa just say that. Why'd he tell me that they were dead?”

 

“Um, I dunno. Maybe he wasn't allowed to. Do you wanna play?” said Alfred, standing up.

 

“Okay.”

 

Then Mathieu heard a voice from Alfred's side of the fence, “Where are you boy? Lunch is ready.”

 

“Coming Arthur. I gotta go. Wanna play tomorrow Matt?”

 

Alfred didn't wait for a response but ran off and out of the bushes on his side.

 

Before long, Mathieu heard his Papa's voice drift from his own house.

 

“Mathieu, where have you gone?” said Papa, sounding worried.

 

Crawling out of the bushes, Mathieu went over to his Papa, head down.

 

“Don't go outside again without asking me first, okay? You gave me a scare.”

 

Mathieu didn't mention that he'd tried to talk to his Papa, but the man had been too busy to hear his quiet little voice.

 

“Okay Papa.”

 

“Good. Now why don't we have something to eat. I'm feeling peckish.”

 

#

 

“And he lives in the house beside us and his Mommies are space aliens who couldn't bring him with them because they are aliens of course and he was holding a bear and it was white and I wanna go over there to play and introduce them to Tony so can I Arthur?” said Alfred, mouth filled to the brim with cereal and some of it sprayed out on the table.

 

Mmm, froot loops!

 

“For the last time boy, don't talk with food in your mouth. And, I'm unsure if I understood most of that. You want to go play with the child who just moved in next door?” said Arthur before he yawned wide.

 

“Uh-huh! Can I? Can I? Can I?” said Alfred, bouncing in his chair which shifted on the floor with a squeak.

 

“Fine. Finish your cereal first.”

 

Alfred shoveled the rest of the contents of his bowl into his mouth in record time and downed his cup of orange juice. He tore out of the house, forgetting all about wearing shoes which he heard his big brother complain about. Alfred was too excited to care. He missed the few friends that he had back at his old junior kindergarten and was glad to make a new one.

 

He checked the spot where he'd first met Matt but the other kid wasn't there. So he moved the lidded garbage can to the biggest tree near the fence, and used it to climb up onto a thick branch. Then he peeked over the fence.

 

Sitting by a window, frowning was Matt. Alfred waved but the other boy didn't see him. So he cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled at the top of his lungs, “MATT!”

 

Matt looked over and then his eyes went wide. The little boy flung open the glass back doors to the house and ran out.

 

“We're not supposed to climb trees. It's dangerous,” said Matt, voice low like he was still using his indoors voice.

 

“No it's not. I'm fine. Don't worry. It's fun.”

 

Arthur went into the backyard and called out much more quietly that Alfred had yelled, “Don't shout so loudly and get down from there. I'll walk you around and speak to the other lad's parents.”

 

Alfred did as he was asked. He really did try his hardest to listen, especially when Arthur was tired and kept yawning all the time. Still, Alfred couldn't help but bounce in place as they waited for the front door of Matt's house to open.

 

“Une minute,” called a grown up, probably Matt's daddy.

 

The door opened and a super yummy smell wafted out, like cookies or muffins or pie or...or something. Alfred looked around the grown up in order to see if he could find the source of the scent.

 

He did see Matt, poking his head through an open door. The little boy quickly darted his head back, shy all of a sudden.

 

Alfred looked up at the grown up and before anybody else could say anything, he said, “I wanna play outside with Matt!”

 

#

 

Arthur looked into the eyes of the man standing before him and couldn't help but think quickly of everything that led up to that very moment.

 

It had taken months to get all of their affairs in order and to find a house that was big enough for him and Alfred. Most of the money from the sale of his parents' old home had gone to the purchase of the home they were in now, as well as all of the legal fees required. He'd just used furniture from his parents house, so they thankfully hadn't needed any of that.

 

Arthur had gone through his parents savings on their funeral and living costs before he found a house. However he'd sold his parents belongings that they didn't need or that didn't bring back personal memories. He'd made just enough to have a bit of a buffer in his bank account.

 

But things were still pretty tight.

 

Regardless of his financial situation, he'd done it. Arthur had waded through hours of meetings with various Children's Protection Services employees. They'd had more home visits than he could count and a probe of practically all of his entire life's plans.

 

In the end, they'd deemed him a fit guardian to Alfred. Though there were always going to be more visits for CPS workers.

 

Alfred, who kept him on his toes constantly. Alfred who had led him here, to this very moment, in front of some guy who lived next door. Some wanker with shoulder length blonde hair, a bit of scruff along his jaw and a smug look curling his lips. Alfred had apparently made friends with this man's boy.

 

“Oui, you may, if Mathieu wants to. Would you like to mon petit?” said the man, cooing to the rather adorable child that tip-toed over to them.

 

Mathieu nodded and Alfred yelled, “Great!”

 

Then they clasped hands and ran out into the backyard of Mathieu's house.

 

“Mm mm, Bonjour. I'm Francis Bonnefoy,” said Francis, purring the word 'bonjour', grabbing the hand of the stunned Arthur and kissing the top of it, “And you are?”

 

What the hell? What the bloody hell?

 

Arthur tugged back his hand and took a step away. He narrowed his eyes dangerously.

 

“Who do you think you are? Kissing my hand in the middle of the...doorstep...where the children can see us. Christ man! And my name is Arthur Kirkland,” he snarled and affixed his best scowl to his face.

 

“Hmm, so you're the uptight sort?”

 

Sputtering to find the right words for a moment, he eventually said, “I am not. This just isn't the time nor the place for this sort of behaviour.”

 

Francis gazed over at him with such a look of sheer lechery that Arthur went down onto one of the steps even further away. The Frenchman then said, “Well why don't we pick a time and a place?”

 

“Go to hell. I'll be back over to get Alfred in an hour or so. Feel free to drag him back over if he makes a nuisance of himself or knock on my door for me to come get him. And if something happens to him, I will kill you myself.”

 

Then he stormed away.

 

What nerve!

 

Just as he nearly got to the sidewalk, Francis said, “Mon Dieu, but you must have been a child when you and his mother conceived him.”

 

Clenching his fists, he whipped around and said, “I fail to see how that's any of your business.”

 

“I'd just like to know about the family of the child that Mathieu has made friends with.”

 

“No, you're being a nosey jerk.”

 

“You know, so far you've done nothing but insult me. I'm offended,” said Francis, placing a hand on his own chest and looking away as if in tears.

 

“Because you've deserved every name I've flung your way. And for your information, Alfred's my brother. Now if you don't mind, I have a ton of work to do. Good day.”

 

This was his neighbour. Wonderful. Just perfect.

 

As he went inside, Arthur rubbed the spot on his hand where Francis had kissed it.

 

#

 

Francis watched Mathieu play with the little boy that he'd met. His son actually looked happy for the first time in months.

 

After a month or two of apartment living, Francis decided that it was high time for a change of scenery. His fashion designs were popular enough within the firm he worked for that Francis was able to work from home and do Skype when it was needed. His boss had been more than happy to accommodate his needs to keep him on the staff.

 

So he'd looked around and decided, almost randomly, on Kitchener-Waterloo as a place to relocate. It had seemed like a nice place to live and raise a kid. Money was not an issue for Francis. He just wanted a nice home in a quiet neighbourhood. The cities were large enough that they had a decent amount of fashion boutiques to sate his desire for nice clothes.

 

And if he wanted more, he could always travel. Mathieu was such a good and quiet child that Francis honestly forgot about him a few times.

 

The one worry that Francis did have had been friends. The boy was so shy and quiet. Before Leona died, her and Francis would spent a decent amount of time on the phone. One of her favourite subjects, obviously, had been Mathieu.

 

The boy had been in prématernelle already, or junior kindergarten as the English here in Ontario called it. Leona had told him about how Mathieu never really talked about other kids, or really had any friends. So it seemed that his decision to move here had so far been a good one.

 

Now if only he wasn't going to have to deal with such an uptight neighbour. Hmm, but Francis could have fun with the man.

 

And Arthur was pretty attractive.

 

Stepping outside, Francis lit a smoke. He'd yet to break the habit, but had been meaning to. He never smoked inside and always made sure that any wind outside would blow the fumes away from Mathieu if the child was around.

 

“Time to go home Alfred,” called Francis.

 

Running up to him, arms out as if he were an air plane, Alfred said, “Aw, can I come back and play tomorrow, or later today? I forgot to bring Tony over to show Matt. Hey, I smelled cookies. Can I have a cookie? Don't tell Arthur I asked though. He said it's rude to ask 'cause you need to wait for somebody to offer', but I really want a cookie if you were making some.”

 

Then Alfred gave Francis a thousand watt grin and the man couldn't help but give in. After all, he had been baking and there were probably too many for him and Mathieu to eat by themselves.

 

Sending Mathieu inside to grab himself and his friend Alfred a cookie, the boys were quiet along the walk back. Francis knocked on Arthur's front door, his smoke dangling between his index and middle fingers.

 

Arthur opened the door and immediately seemed to balk.

 

“Were you expecting somebody else?” asked Francis with a smirk.

 

The cigarette was snatched out of his hand and tossed to the ground where it was crushed under Arthur's slipper, “Don't smoke your filthy poison in front of my brother.”

 

Mathieu darted behind Francis and clutched onto his leg.

 

“Watch your tone around my son,” said Francis, making an edge to his voice and looking down forlornly at his ruined smoke.

 

As if he just realized what he'd done, Arthur knelt in front of the boy and softened his tone considerably, “I'm sorry for frightening you lad. I'm glad that you and Alfred had fun. Why don't you come over here to play tomorrow, hmm?”

 

Mathieu nodded and then hid his face. Alfred bid his friend goodbye and ran inside. Francis wondered if that kid had an off switch.

 

Arthur nodded, “Right then, Goodbye.”

 

And then the man closed the door in Francis' face.

 

Stupid English bastard.

 

#

 

The stores were all so loud and crowded. There were so many big racks of clothes and shelves upon shelves that seemed to dwarf him. Mathieu shrunk back from a group of passing shoppers and tried to keep up with his ecstatic Papa.

 

Papa was flitting from place to place, eyeing all of the options.

 

“Why Mathieu, if I had the time and the space, I would have made your whole wardrobe myself. But these options are pretty good. I think we'll try this on, and this. Oh, you must have those boots to complete the outfit. You will be the best dressed child in your class for certain,” said Papa in rapid French, walking away.

 

Mathieu didn't care about clothes, he just wanted to go home. Why didn't Papa see that? He stopped for just a moment to wipe at his eyes.

 

His lower lip trembled again when he looked up and couldn't see Papa. He couldn't hear him anymore either. Where was he?

 

Mathieu looked around and picked a direction that he thought Papa had gone in. He couldn't see anybody in the mall aside from strangers. There were some benches and garbage cans and people in booths in the middle of the mall.

 

Tears in his eyes, but head down so that nobody could see him cry, Mathieu sat on one of the benches. Somebody sat beside him after a while and started to poke his shoulder.

 

“Hey Matt,” said Alfred, “I'm here with Arthur to buy back to school clothes 'cause I growed like a weed. But I have to be quiet now 'cause I had to sneak away from Arthur. Shopping is boring. Why are you crying?”

 

While Alfred spoke, Mathieu looked up at the other boy. That must have been when Alfred saw the tears. He didn't like anybody to see his tears since his mommies had died. Tears seemed to make his Papa uncomfortable. He didn't like making people feel uncomfortable.

 

He wiped at his face quickly and then said, “I don't like shopping either.”

 

“I saw something fun and cool over that way. Wanna come check it out? Tony wants to go too,” said Alfred, his voice rising from a whisper part way and ending in almost a yell and pointing over to an area of air where Mathieu assumed 'Tony', the little grey alien was standing.

 

Mathieu wasn't given much of a choice when his hand was grabbed and he was yanked in the direction of whatever was fun and cool. He'd started to grow used it it over the past couple of weeks of knowing Alfred. His friend was always very excitable and happy. Always ready to take the two of them onto an adventure.

 

It was bound to be fun.

 

Mathieu forgot all about the crowds.

 

#

 

Francis looked around himself frantically, “Mathieu? Mathieu?”

 

Where had the boy gone? He always followed Francis like a shadow when they went out. He'd sort of counted on that being that case today while he bought Mathieu clothes for school. Of course he hadn't heard his son in a while, but that wasn't anything new. The child was forever whispering, which was a perk in Francis' eyes. Usually.

 

Now it had given Francis a false sense of security.

 

And, like the terrible Papa that he was, he'd lost his kid. He called out for Mathieu, the store he was in, Hudson's Bay, being rather large. There was no answer. A service clerk came over to ask if he needed assistance and he described Mathieu to her. She mentioned seeing the boy leave the store.

 

It was a start.

 

Francis went out into the mall, hardly looking where he was going, just wanting to find his lost child, when he bumped into somebody else.

 

“Excusez-moi, sorry to have bumped into you,” said Francis before seeing a flustered Arthur Kirkland before him.

 

“What are you doing here frog?” said Arthur with his typical indignant attitude.

 

“Shopping for Mathieu. Except he seems to have wandered off. Have you seen him?” said Francis is a calm and suave voice. He took great pleasure in speaking in a civil tone to such an irate man.

 

As usual, the tone of voice worked and made Arthur even more upset, “Of course you've lost your son. So typical of you. No I haven't seen him.”

 

“Typical of me hmm, after knowing me for all of two weeks. And by the way, where is little Alfred?”

 

Looking at his feet, Arthur mumbled, “He's run off and I can't find him at the moment. Only because the brat moves so damned fast. How can anybody keep up with him?”

 

“Uh-huh. You are just as bad at parenting as I am, admit it,” said Francis, walking off and keeping a keen eye out for his son.

 

“I am not. At least I don't smoke a stick full of bloody toxins around my charge.”

 

“I don't do it close to him and only outside, now really. Maybe if you had a vice of your own you'd be less stuffy.”

 

“I'd rather not die of cancer, thank you. Now follow me. I have an idea where Alfred went and we might as well look together for Matthew.”

 

“It's Mathieu. It's pronounced differently.”

 

Arthur scoffed and kept up a pace that was surprisingly fast, “I'm not french. I'm using the English version of his name. Not Ma-chew. Math-you.”

 

Francis raise his lip in a sneer but decided to focus on looking out for his precious son instead of arguing. Damned Brit would fight him about anything, wouldn't he?

 

When they saw the boys, Francis was relieved. Mathieu was with Alfred and the two were playing on some coin operated machines. The boys didn't have the cash to use them properly, but they didn't seem to care. Alfred was sitting it a small helicopter and making gun sounds. Mathieu was sitting in a race car and making barely audible 'vroom vroom' sounds.

 

“I told you to stay by my side lad. Do I need to put a leash on you or something? This is getting ri-” said Arthur before leaning closer, “Are you wet? Your entire shirt is soaked!”

 

“Yeah there was a cool fountain back there,” said Alfred, pointing towards the fountains that the two men had passed and not really paid much attention to.

 

Francis moved to his son, who was thankfully dry, “Mathieu. You can't leave like that again. You scared Papa.”

 

Mathieu nodded and looked at the steering wheel of the car he was playing in.

 

Alfred turned his head and yelled, “He was crying. I took him here to cheer him up.”

 

Francis looked carefully at Mathieu and sure enough, the child's eyes were still a bit red, “My sweet, why were you sad?”

 

Mathieu seemed to consider something and then deflated, shoulders slumping before he said, “I hate the crowds and I don't like shopping.”

 

“On mon ange. I am sorry. I forget that others don't share my love for it. How about we get something to eat and then I'll go back but pick out everything very quickly. Does that sound good?”

 

Mathieu looked up, so shy, “Can we get ice cream?”

 

Francis smiled, “But of course.”

 

Alfred cheered and said, “Ice cream!”

 

“Hey, I didn't say...oh what the hell, fine. Ice cream,” said Arthur, defeated in the wake of his little brother's excitement.

 

#

 

Alfred bounded into his new classroom, eyes wide and body trembling with sheer happiness. He seemed to be unable to keep his eyes on one spot, looking everywhere at once.

 

“Arthur,” said Alfred, moving up to his older brother and tugging on his sleeve, “There are so many toys and colours and fun looking things. So much better than the other place.”

 

Probably true. When Arthur was growing up and in school, their parents had put him into centres for higher learning. From what he remembered, they were all stuffy and full of studying and books. Arthur, himself, happened to love books and reading for hours. Alfred, however, was just not like that. He thrived on play, being able to run around and hands on experience.

 

Arthur was, for once, glad that he couldn't afford private school. Public school would be good for him, he thought.

 

Little Mathieu walked more calmly behind them into the room. Arthur had made sure to move faster than the damned frog, who had also left at the same time to walk his son to school. Arthur didn't want to let Francis win at anything, so left him in the dust.

 

When Francis got close to Arthur, he made a point of rolling his eyes. Arthur just gave the man a smug grin.

 

Turning his attention back to the children, Arthur smiled as he saw Mathieu put a hand on Alfred's arm. Alfred stop running everywhere and nodded agreement to whatever little Mathieu had said. Then they both sat down and played a calm game.

 

Yes, Arthur was very happy that he'd moved to this place. Mathieu was a nice kid and would be a good influence in Alfred's life.

 

This would all work out very well.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos. I really, really appreciate each and every reader and read every bookmark and kudos that I get. So thank you.
> 
> Any of the mistakes in french are all mine. I took 7 years of extended french in school, so you'd think I'd be better at the darned language. Yet this story is probably all full of fail!french. I used references guides for anything I was unsure of, but who knows how well I did.
> 
> Also, whenever the story is from the perspective of Francis or Matt, I use the name Mathieu. Whenever it is from a non-french character, I use Matthew. Names tend to get Englishized in real life a lot, so I figured I'd do that here as well. Hope it doesn't bug anybody.

**Chapter Three**

 

Francis had never really cared too much for Christmas. As an adult, it had been simply another holiday to drink and be merry. Maybe bring home a man or woman in a sexy elf or Santa costume and have his way with them. Ever since he'd graduated from University, he'd been busy working and making a name for himself. He hadn't had the time to really celebrate holidays except for quick visits to see family.

 

This year was different.

 

At first, he'd planned to just have presents for Mathieu and then a nice dinner on the day of. He'd rarely been around at Leona's on actual Christmas day, so he didn't really know how his son had celebrated. His own parents hadn't ever done much for Christmas either, so he didn't have a very good idea of what to do.

 

So one day, walking in the door after picking Mathieu up from school, he was hit with it, “Are we going to decorate the outside of the house Papa?”

 

The voice had been so low and shy. Little Mathieu bit his lower lip, a stray curl of hair falling over his face and his foot making circles on the carpet just inside the house.

 

“Take your winter things off mon petit. Also, I wasn’t planning on it. We could get a tree and decorate it though?”

 

Mathieu nodded and they went into the kitchen. Francis began to prepare an after school snack for the boy, a plate with some cut up fruits. When he put the plate in front of Mathieu, it wasn't immediately dug into. Instead, the child just looked at it.

 

“Is there something wrong with it?” asked Francis kindly.

 

“Non, I just...” said Mathieu, voice trailing off and being muffled by the strand of hair he'd started to chew on.

 

Francis extracted the hair, told him to not do that and then said, “Tell me.”

 

“Alfred said that if we decorate the house, my mommies will be able to see the lights from space and be happy. I want them to be happy wherever they are,” said Mathieu, blue eyes wide and shiny.

 

Francis felt his chest tighten and he planted a kiss atop Mathieu's head, “Okay. We'll decorate the house on the outside.”

 

That was how Francis found himself standing on a ladder, hoping to God that he wouldn't fall to his death as he stapled lights along the edge of the roof.

 

“I'm really not made for this kind of thing,” he muttered under his breath as he used the staple gun, that he bought just the previous day, to hang up another section of lights.

 

Mathieu was sitting on the ground rolling snowballs while placing them in a row and humming a song. Francis chuckled at how happy his kid looked, just plopped in the snow. That child would spend hours in the snow, loved the stuff.

 

He leaned dramatically against the side of the house and sighed, even though nobody was around to see him pout. He'd already put lines of lights around the windows. This was such hard work. Maybe he should have just paid somebody to do this for him. Now there was a thought.

 

“Just the windows and eaves?” said Arthur as he followed Alfred, who dived into the snow beside Mathieu, “A bit stingy are we?”

 

“Better than yours I'm sure,” he sniped back, not in the mood to think of a better insult, sweat covering the back of his neck.

 

He climbed down the ladder and shifted it in over to get at the next section.

 

Arthur hummed thoughtfully and then said, “Well I did light up all of the trees and bushes as well, but I'm sure that your house won't look at all pathetic compared to mine. Anyway frog, I'm leaving Alfred here for an hour or so because he wants to play. Be good boy.”

 

Alfred didn't pay attention, he was tromping through the snow growling. Mathieu was following on all fours barking. Francis would normally think fondly about the innocence of youth.

 

Yet right then, all he could think of was that he had to have his house decorated better than that English jerk. There was no way that he'd let himself be outdone that easily.

 

So the next day, when Mathieu was at school, Francis went to the hardware store and bought more lights and decorations. A cart full of them. Enough to cover all of the trees and even the fence. There'd probably be leftovers.

 

He'd show Arthur a thing or two.

 

#

 

The Brit stood outside of his own home that night, admiring his own lights. As soon as Francis saw this, he flicked on all of the lights he'd strung up during the day and run outside, sleepy Mathieu in tow. Of all the best things that he's seen that season, the look of frustration on Arthur's face was the priceless.

 

“Quite a sight, isn't it?” asked Francis, one brow risen.

 

“It's horrendous. You need to know when to draw the line. Too many lights. Really now, not all of us have that sort of money to spend on decorations.”

 

Mathieu, not usually one to speak up in any situation, said with a huge, beaming smile, “Mommies will for sure be able to see this. They'll be so happy. Merci Papa, merci.”

 

The little boy wrapped his arms around Francis' legs tightly. The frosty look in Arthur's eyes melted and Alfred cheered and waved to the sky, “Hi Matt's Mommies!”

 

Alright. So Arthur's indignation had been the second best thing Francis had seen that season.

 

The sheer delight on his son's face took the number one spot in his heart.

 

#

 

Humming a carol under his breath, Mathieu walk over to Alfred's house, his Papa watching from the window. He had a heavy tin full of cookies.

 

Yesterday, Christmas Eve, he and Papa had spent the whole day together. Papa hadn't need to do any work at all. They'd spent the day baking and decorating cookies of all shapes and sizes.

 

This morning, Santa had given him so many toys, he almost didn't know what to do with them all. He couldn't wait to play with them all and show Alfred.

 

He pressed the doorbell, his knocks were never loud enough, and Arthur opened with a look of surprise.

 

“Oh, good morning Matthew, how was your-”

 

“SPACESHIP!!” cried Alfred from behind his older brother, flying a metal spaceship around.

 

Matt had an eyeful of the toy ship in no time, before he could even get inside. He wormed his way in and took off his coat, hanging it up as well as he could. Then he held the tin out to Arthur, “Me and Papa baked them for you and Alfred. C'est biscuits!”

 

“Well thank you Matthew. Why don't you two go play?”

 

Mathieu went into Alfred's room and got shown more toys. Santa hadn't given Alfred nearly as many as he'd given Mathieu. There was the ship, of course, which was about the length of Alfred's forearm. There were a few little plastic aliens, a foam sword and a book about 'out-of-space'.

 

“Where's the rest of the stuff that Santa brought?” asked Mathieu.

 

Alfred shrugged, “Dunno. I got lots of stuff last year when my mom and dad were still alive.”

 

After a watery sniffle and a pause, Alfred said, “But I like the spaceship that he brought me so I'm happy.”

 

Mathieu frowned. He got so many toys. Almost more than he could play with. Then he remembered one toy that he got. One that he knew that Alfred would just love.

 

“I think I got one of your toys by mistake,” said Mathieu.

 

“What? Which one?”

 

“Captain America. You really like him, and I only like him a little bit. You want him?”

 

Alfred nearly dropped the toy in his hands as he whipped around to face Mathieu, “Uh-huh!”

 

Mathieu quickly ran back to his house and grabbed the toy, too excited to even hear his Papa ask what he was doing. When he got back, Alfred was waiting by the door, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

 

“Thanks Matt.”

 

“You're welcome.”

 

Before Matt knew it, he was wrapped in Alfred's hug. All the Christmas cartoons he'd watched were right. It was better to give. He breathed out a barely audible giggle and hugged back just as tightly.

 

#

 

Arthur stacked the pile of bills on the table in front of him and laid his head on the cool wood. He wanted to throw the papers into a fire and watch them burn to ashes. But that wouldn't make them go away.

 

The leftovers from selling everything his parents owned that he and Alfred didn't need was dwindling away. His part time job that he took when Alfred was at school wasn't cutting it.

 

He needed more hours and he knew that his boss was willing to give them to him.

 

The problem was that he'd need somebody to pick up Alfred from school but he didn't know anybody around the area, except...

 

Him.

 

Arthur chugged the rest of his tea and let his head thunk down on the table a few times before groaning. He'd rather have an enema than ask that bloody idiot for a favour. But he didn't really have a choice, did he? The pile of bills in front of him spoke loud and clear.

 

When he took Alfred over to play with Matthew, Arthur stood at the doorstep of Francis' home.

 

“Are you waiting for something?” said Francis in that stupid, overly smug voice of his.

 

“Shut up.”

 

“I'm closing the door now,” said Francis, starting to do just that.

 

Sticking out a foot, Arthur stopped the door from shutting all the way, “Look, I just...oh hell. I need...Look! You are going to pick Alfred up from school, alright? You work from home and pick up Matthew anyway and my brother plays here after school nearly every day anyway. So just pick him up too.”

 

Francis scoured Arthur's face, which was flaming red by that point, and finally said, “Alright. No need for a whole rant. You only had to ask. Now, you are letting the cold in, so kindly move your foot and leave.”

 

Arthur did so and stared at the dark wood door which shut in his face. He had to admit, this was a huge weight off of his chest.

 

#

It had been Arthur's second full day of work since Alfred had gone back to school after the holidays. He was exhausted but felt so accomplished. Alfred had been pretty quiet, for him at least, but seemed otherwise fine. Arthur was too tired to ask further, perhaps Alfred was getting a bit of a cold.

 

After bathing the child, who wasn't too out of it to splash so much that he nearly created a miniature tsunami in the tub, Arthur put Alfred to bed. He decided that getting a good night's sleep was more important than staying up and doing studies.

 

However he couldn't resist picking up a book to read. 'Cat's Cradle' by Kurt Vonnegut, it was quite the interesting read. Focused deeply on the novel, he didn't hear the door to his room open. He barely even felt the movement on his bed.

 

Arthur was only aware of Alfred's presence when the blanket lifted and a waft of cold air hit his warm body. Alfred stayed under the blankets, nestled up against Arthur. There was a series of suspicious snuffles and wet sniffles.

 

Lifting the covers to look at the little boy, Arthur said, “What's wrong?”

 

“Are you going to leave me?”

 

That voice was so full of sadness and near to tears that Arthur felt a tug on his heart, “What gave you that idea? It's not true.”

 

“You have Matt's papa picking me up from school now. I love Matt and his daddy is nice but he's not you,” cried Alfred.

 

“Oh lad, I'm not going to leave you. I just need to make some more money then I have been. Didn't I tell you that?”

 

Alfred nodded against the side of Arthur's chest and then said, “Yeah, but Mommy and Daddy were always out, working. Then they didn't come back one day.”

 

Stroking the boy's soft and straight blonde hair, Arthur said, “I cannot predict what will happen in the future. However as long as I have breath in my body I won't leave you by yourself, okay?”

 

Alfred threw his arms around Arthur, “Okay. Can I sleep in here tonight?”

 

“Sure.”

#

 

The next Christmas came so fast. Alfred was really, super excited. He sat at the kitchen table, holding a crayon to a piece of paper with intense focus. His legs swung back and forth under the table, making his body vibrate. This was the last paper that he needed to make. Next he just needed to use the glitter glue.

 

The tubes of sparkling glue were up on the bookshelf. Arthur hadn't wanted him to use them by himself. Said it was too messy. But Arthur was busy in the kitchen with a big, huge, giant hunk of beef. Alfred peeked through the kitchen door which was open a crack and saw his older brother struggle to saw some strings off of the meat. He was busy. Good.

 

Moving quiet. Like a super ninja, Alfred moved over a chair to the shelf. He stood on his tip-toes and swatted down the glue and caught them before they fell and made a loud noise.

 

Then he moved his chair back to the table and went to work. The papers were large and thick. He squirted a huge glob right into the middle. Then another glob with some green onto the sides. Alfred tried to spread it with the end of one of the tubes, but couldn't, so he just used his fingers.

 

By the time he was done, both of his hands were covered, as well as a good part of the top of the table. When Arthur came out, asking, “Are you ready for a snack while we wa- Good God! Look at the mess. This is why I wanted you to wait!”

 

Alfred felt his lower lip tremble as Arthur got a cloth a scrubbed, “Seriously. I'd like you to listen from now on. Okay?”

 

A tear slipped free, “I lied when I said this was all for Matt. Half of the pages are a book for Matt. The others are for you.”

 

Alfred put the soggy glue and glitter soaked cover on the dry pages and handed them to Arthur.

 

They showed a story about a boy who had a pet alien and an awesome big brother. At the end was written, “I love you Arthur. You're the bestest big brother ever.”

 

He'd even spelled every word properly. He made sure. While he didn't know if bestest was a word, if it was, he was certain that he'd spelled it right.

 

Arthur read the book, looked at the picture and smiled before pecking Alfred's forehead, “Well now, this is nice. Thank you.”

 

“Welcome! Can we dry Matt's really soon? I wanna give it to him so that he have it tonight because it's Christmas eve and it's important that he have it tonight.”

 

Dancing around the table, singing, was what Alfred did while Arthur used a blow dryer to make the glue not sopping wet. It took a while and Arthur swore a few times when the paper went brown in some spots. As soon as the last staple was in, Alfred ran outside in his boots and a coat and furiously knocked on Matt's door. He hardly paid attention to everything that was lit up with bright lights. Every window, piece of fence, tree and shrub had strings of glowing reds, greens and whites. Alfred's own house had blues and whites over everything and a bunch of Santa Claus window stickers.

 

His dad opened the door and before the word, “Bonsoir” came out, Alfred was out of his boots and up the stairs, still in his coat.

 

Matt was in the bathroom, mouth full of green toothpaste foam, toothbrush dangling from between his lips. Alfred held the book out.

 

“Merry Christmas!” and he pressed a shy kiss to Matt's cheek. Not caring about the taste of mint that was now on his lips.

 

He put it on the counter of the bathroom sink and then he ran downstairs and back home.

 

When Matt opened it afterwards, he got his Papa to read it.

 

“I love you Matt. You're my bestest friend forever and ever.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I don't ship Us/Uk romanticly, I love them having brotherly hugs and snuggles. It makes me happy.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh wow! Thank you again for all of the kudos. Yay!

**Chapter Four**

 

It was the first day back to school. Grade four, same school. Once again, his Papa and Arthur were trying to outdo each other with who walked to school faster. Mathieu thought it was funny and was pretty used to it by now. He and Alfred walked together, behind the adults.

 

When they got to the school entrance, they lined up behind their new teacher. Papa kissed the top of his head in a farewell and Alfred gave Arthur a big hug. The grown-ups went away, walking together but with a fair distance between their bodies.

 

“Hey Matt, look over there. A new kid!” said Alfred, tapping Mathieu's shoulder and pointing towards the end of the lineup where, indeed, a new boy was standing.

 

“Uh huh. He looks nice,” said Mathieu, who never knew what to say.

 

“Sure does. We should make friends with him,” said Alfred, already bouncing over in the direction.

 

At the same time that Alfred left, Mathieu mumbled, “I don't know.”

 

His hands trembled. Making new friends was scary. Playing with Alfred was enough for him. During their other years of school, the rest of the kids would talk to Alfred and try to be friends with him. Sometimes they'd join games with other kids together, but it was usually just the two of them.

 

When they got inside, Alfred sat next to Mathieu, of course. But he was dragging the new boy to sit right on the other side, Alfred himself in the middle.

 

His name was Kiku and he'd just come from Japan. He spoke English pretty well, even if slightly accented.

 

And Alfred spoke to the other boy constantly - at least until the teacher hushed him.

 

As soon as the first recess came along, Mathieu was going to ask Alfred if they wanted to play in the far corner of the playground, the one that was visible from the sidewalk they walked to school on. He was pretty sure that he'd seen a bunch of really great looking mud puddles.

 

Yet before he could get to his best friend, Alfred was dragging Kiku out to the playground. All of the other kids in their class run by him too. Mathieu's bottom lip trembled and he let go of the laces on his shoes.

 

Why wasn't Alfred playing with him? Sure they'd played together all Summer, but why did Alfred just run by him?

 

Tears formed in his eyes but he wiped them away furiously when he heard the voice of a girl in his class. She was standing right behind him, “Hi Matthew. It's me Yekaterina.”

 

He looked over at one of the little girls who'd tried to make friends with him before. Mathieu had always been too shy to talk back whenever she approached though. She'd been in their class since last year. She was actually taller than him and had short and really light blonde hair that was held back with a coloured band.

 

“Why aren't you playing with Alfred?” she asked, tilting her head.

 

She had an accent that he hadn't heard before in anybody else. Mathieu had never asked her where she came from.

 

He shrugged and slumped, shuffling his feet on his way out the door and into the fresh air.

 

“Do you want to play with me and my little brother? He's in another class. His name's Ivan. Come on,” said Yekaterina, though he knew that the other people in the class called her Kat for short.

 

Mathieu wasn't really that good at saying 'no' to things, so he followed along. She brought them to the area where the grade threes were let out. That was where he saw Katerina's brother. Ivan was little, but still looked a lot like Katerina, same pale blond hair and same light blue eyes and nose with a slight bump. With a shy smile, Ivan waved.

 

Katerina said, “Matthew, this is Ivan. Vanya, this is a boy from my class. Let's all play house. Matt can be the daddy, I'm the mommy and Ivan will be the baby.”

 

“I'm not a baby,” said Ivan, with a pout.

 

“No, but you can pretend to be one, okay?”

 

“Okay sis.”

 

Mathieu stopped following when he looked towards the corner of the playground, where the cool mud puddles were from the rains the night before. There was Alfred and that boy Kiku, running around. Well, Al was running, Kiku was watching.

 

Calling out, Kat said, “Come on Matt, you've gotta come over here and say that you're home from work.”

 

Mathieu decided to just go play with Katerina and ignore Alfred as well.

 

#

 

It had been all day and Alfred hadn't really seen Matt. He hadn't really looked very hard though because he knew that he'd see Matt after school.

 

He got to his coat hook and took down his backpack. Matt was beside him and looked at his own feet really hard.

 

“Is there something on your feet? Didya step in some dog poop?” asked Alfred, giggling afterwards because he said 'poop'.

 

Matt didn't answer, just put on his own coat and backpack. Then he walked to the front of the school.

 

“Wait up,” said Alfred, jacket half on and pack in the hand that he'd slipped through the coat sleeve.

 

Matt, who was already outside since he could move really fast when he wanted to, was balancing on the big rock out front. He walked back and forth along it. Alfred decided that talking would be a good thing, “So Kiku is from Japan. I don't know where that is. He said he'd bring his daddy’s map in so he could show me. He speaks another language too, just like you. Isn't that cool. It doesn't sound the same though, as French. Oh, oh, oh and he likes video games too and Pokemon. His favourite Pokemon is Charmander. He had an extra card that he didn't need. So he gave it to me. Isn't Kiku so cool?”

 

Except that Matt wasn't looking at Alfred. Maybe he hadn't heard what he told him?

 

“See, lookit! Isn't it cool? Maybe Arthur will buy me some, now that I have one. He always says that they're too 'spensive.”

 

Without asking, which Arthur always said was rude, Matt grabbed the card from Alfred's hand. Alfred decided that it was okay that Matt touched his card though, because his friend was always super careful with his toys.

 

Except that then Matt scrinched up his eyes and yelled, “Stupid!”

 

Before Alfred could stop him, Matt threw his super-awesomely-cool Pokemon card in a puddle.

 

Alfred blinked at his card as it floated along the top of the puddle. Before he thought about it, he lashed out. He pushed Matt off of the rock. Then, not looking at his meanie friend, he fished the card out of the water and tried to dry it on his pants.

 

He glanced over at Matt, who was sprawled on the ground on his side. Alfred couldn't see his friend's face, but could hear the wailing scream.

 

#

 

Francis walked the last stretch to the school, hands shoved in his pockets. He was late, as he tended to be a few times each week. He'd get caught up in a design and lose track of time. It wasn't so bad though since the boys would keep themselves occupied by playing, and he was never more than ten minutes late.

 

Except that day, as he moved passed the fence to the school, he saw an ambulance right where the boys normally would meet him. Feeling a cold settle inside of him, he drew out his phone and found that sure enough, the school had tried to call him but his phone had been on silent.

 

Breaking out into a run, Francis made it to the ambulance just as his son was being placed on a stretcher.

 

“What's going on?” yelled Francis, moving to the nearest teacher who was speaking to one of the paramedics.

 

A teacher nearby said, “We didn't see much other than Matthew falling and then crying.”

 

The paramedic said, “Your son is being taken to the hospital. He has likely broken his arm and took a nasty fall from that rock right there. He received a bump to his head too. We'll go there and check to make sure everything is alright. Will you be riding with us?”

 

Francis nodded but then shook his head said, “I will go home and get my car and drive there to meet you.”

 

When he said that, he looked over a Alfred who he also always picked up from school. He was sitting on the ground, arms crossed over his chest. He was clutching a wet card in one hand and his bottom lip was trembling.

 

Francis went over to Mathieu, who still had big fat tears rolling down his cheeks and stroked his hair, “I'll be driving right to the hospital as soon as Alfred has somebody to watch him, okay?”

 

Mathieu whispered in between hitching sobs, “Can you bring Kuma?”

 

The boy's bear.

 

Francis said, “Of course.”

 

After kissing his son's forehead he went to Alfred and held a hand out for the boy. Alfred accepted the hand up and then let it go once he was standing. He looked at the ground the whole way home.

 

As they walked, Francis called Arthur on his cell phone, “Arthur?”

 

“What do you want frog? I'm at work.”

 

“You need to come home and watch Alfred. I have to go to the hospital to be with Mathieu. An ambulance took him there.”

 

The line was quiet except for a bit of shuffling and muffled talking in the background. Finally Arthur said, “I'll be right home.”

 

Francis brought Alfred, who was clearly upset over seeing his friend so hurt, inside and gave him a cookie and a cup of milk. Alfred didn't even pick the food up, just kept looking at the counter, face every now and then twitching as if he was about to break out into tears.

 

“It's alright Alfred. Mathieu will be just fine,” said Francis, still feeling intense worry for his son, but knowing that he needed to comfort the little boy in front of him.

 

Alfred didn't say anything, but didn't have time to. Arthur burst through the door, having probably broken at least a dozen traffic laws to get back so fast.

 

“Go, go. I'll lock up. I know where you keep your spare key.”

 

Francis headed out as fast as he could.

 

#

 

While he prepared dinner, Arthur had watched Alfred sit slumped on the couch in front of the TV with blank eyes. The bottomless pit of a child had hardly touched his supper and hadn't spoken more than a few words since they'd locked the frog's house up and came back home.

 

After dinner, they'd both sat down and started homework. Arthur was on his last class and was nearly done his final project. He just needed this last credit and then had to present the findings of his project. This major had taken double the time it normally would, but the school and his teachers had been understanding when they heard of his situation.

 

Despite the fact that Alfred being quiet was a sign of the boy being upset over his friend, it was also exceedingly rare. The happy-go-lucky child didn't get sad often. The only times the boy had been this silent in the past otherwise was when he was sick, and Arthur hadn't been able to get much done because Alfred had been puking everywhere.

 

Since Alfred was sitting at the table with him, doing his own work for school, Arthur was able to keep a close eye on him and still work hard.

 

He must have lost himself in his studies for quite a while, because his eyes went blurry by the time he looked up. Alfred was still at the other end of the table, just staring down at his papers full of unanswered math questions.

 

“What's wrong? This isn't like you at all,” said Arthur, of course certain that the boy was upset over his friend being hurt.

 

“If he dies, it'll be all my fault,” whispered Alfred.

 

“Huh? Mathieu isn't going to die. If he was that hurt, his father wouldn't have walked you home first. He would have left you with a teacher at school. But why do you think it's all your fault?”

 

Alfred spoke even more silently but Arthur had moved close enough by that point that he could hear, “I pushed him.”

 

“What? Why?”

 

Without warning he had an armful of child. A screaming and panicked child who spoke loudly now and fast, “There was a new boy at school and I made friends with him and he was cool and gave me a Pokemon card so I told Matt about it and showed it to him but he-”

 

Alfred paused to take a deep gulp of air before continuing, “grabbed the card from my hand and threw it into a puddle and I was so mad that I pushed him and I'm so sorry and now he's going to die and he's my bestest friend and I don't care about the card anymore I just don't want him to diiiiieeeee.”

 

Arthur petted Alfred's hair as the boy sobbed in his arms. That was certainly something. The two kids hadn't fought even once in all the years that they'd known each other. It had surprised Arthur actually, since kids tended to squabble, especially when they spent as much time together as Matthew and Alfred.

 

“Alright, first off, Matthew is not going to die. You made a mistake by pushing your friend, for sure and you need to apologize. However I think that he'll probably forgive you.”

 

Alfred nodded but still sniffled.

 

They sat there for a while longer and eventually Alfred began to doze. Arthur let the boy sleep on his lap because times like this were getting far and few between since the boy was getting older. Once the boy was asleep, Arthur brought him upstairs and tucked him in.

 

He needed sleep himself, but he also needed to work on his project. So he went back down to the table and began to read some more.

 

At some point he must have fallen asleep because he felt a tug at his arm. Blearily, he lifted his head and looked at Alfred, who was wide awake. Sun streamed through the windows lighting his pages of notes. A small patch of drool wet the pages of the book he'd fallen asleep on while reading.

 

“I wanna go see Matt. He'd be home right? His Papa's car is in the driveway. Can we leave early for school?” blabbered Alfred, with a much more confident tone of voice then the night before.

 

Arthur rubbed the sleep from his eyes and plodded to the kitchen to pour cereal for Alfred and switch on the kettle for tea.

 

After breakfast, they left. Along with his backpack, Alfred had a piece of paper folded like a card. Alfred ran around the fence and began to assault their neighbour's door.

 

It took a while for Francis to answer and when he did, Arthur saw that the man was wearing a robe tied around the waist.

 

Francis yawned, “Oh bonjour Alfred. If you're here to see Mathieu, I'm afraid he's still in bed. It was a long night.”

 

Alfred's eyes widened and the boy looked about to flip out. Arthur put a hand on his little brother's shoulder and asked, “What was wrong with him?”

 

Francis reached out behind him and grabbed a pack of cigarettes and stepped outside. The Frenchman lit one up, a habit that disgusted Arthur. However just this once, Arthur decided that Francis probably needed a smoke.

 

“He broke his arm. There was a bit of a bump on his head, but nothing serious.”

 

Alfred thrust out the card to Francis and yelled, “Can you give this to him? I'm so sorry for pushing him. I'm glad he's not dead and I'll see him after school.”

 

With that Alfred puffed himself up and seemed as if he was awaiting his final judgement.

 

Francis blew the smoke away from the boy and took a few more drags before he said, “Alright. He'll be glad to see you too.”

 

Despite Alfred's show of bravado, he shyly said, “You aren't mad at me?”

 

“No. It's not my place to be upset anyway. It's Mathieu's place to forgive you, not me.”

 

Arthur met Francis' eyes and said, “So I'll pick Alfred up from school. I'll just have to call my boss and-”

 

Waving the hand with the smoke back and forth, Francis said, “No need. Mathieu will be rested enough by then to at least ride in the car to pick up Alfred.”

 

Huh? Arthur narrowed his eyes. Why was Francis always being so damned kind to him and Alfred? It couldn't possibly be because they were neighbours and their small charges were friends.

 

Except that however much it made Arthur suspicious, he needed the extra money and couldn't afford to take any time off of work.

 

He glared at the grass and mustered up every ounce of the polite gentleman his parents raised him to be and said, “Thank you.”

 

Francis smirked and said, “You are very welcome for the favour.”

 

Arthur turned on his heel and grabbed Alfred's hand, dragging the boy towards the school.

 

Maybe that frog did this just to make him squirm and know that he owed Francis so damned much.

 

He couldn't help but growl quietly.

 

#

 

Alfred felt a little sick to his stomach. He kicked at some pebbles on the ground. When Francis stopped at the side of the street and rolled down the window, waving at him, Alfred went over slowly.

 

What if Matt didn't forgive him? Kiku was cool, but he wasn't his best friend. Matt was.

 

He got into the backseat and sat in the booster seat, clicking the seat belt into place. Matt was in the seat beside him, a white cast on his left arm, wrapped in a sling.

 

“Didya get my card? I made it this morning.”

 

Matt nodded and said, “I liked the picture of Tony that you drew. I thought you didn't believe in him anymore.”

 

“I still believe he's real, he just went back to his home planet.”

 

“Thank you for the Pokemon card but you don't need to give it to me,” said Matt quietly, fishing with his right hand into his pocket and taking the wrinkled and formerly wet card out.

 

“Nuh-uh, you can have it because you're my best friend. I'm sorry for pushing you.”

 

“S'okay, just don't do it again.”

 

As soon as the car stopped in Matt's driveway, Alfred jumped out and carefully threw his arms around his friend, “Never!”

 

#

 

Arthur needed to focus on his work. He needed to type up reports, read books. He needed to clean parts of his house, because God knows how badly the place always needed a good scrubbing. However all he could do was stare out of the window.

 

It had been weeks and weeks since Francis had still agreed to pick Alfred up from school, despite his own son's broken arm being caused by that very child. Francis was always doing kind things for him even if the man was snarky about it. So why couldn't Arthur just stop thinking about the bloody guy?

 

At that moment, Alfred and Matthew were upstairs, in bed, having a sleepover. Their new friend Kiku was there as well for the first time. Francis had seemed far too excited for Matthew to be out of the house, and Arthur wondered why.

 

Perhaps that was why he was staring out the window as if he were a stalker. When he saw the headlights of a car pulling into the frog's driveway, he winced. Arthur didn't care at all.

 

He tried to turn away, read about two words of his books before glowering back out the window.

 

Francis got out of his car and on the other side came another man. Somebody dressed in skimpy, leathers and a mesh shirt. Clubbing clothes.

 

The skimpily dressed man sidled up to Francis, right on their bloody front lawn and licked up the older man's neck. The stranger lay his hands on Francis' chest and ground their hips together, right where anybody could see them.

 

Of all the nerve!

 

Before Arthur could stop himself, he stomped out of the house and across the lawn. He couldn't think clearly in the midst of his fury, but was sure that flames would ignite in the grass where he had stepped.

 

Francis had his eyes closed in obvious pleasure and didn't see his neighbour approach. Arthur grabbed the young man whose mouth was suctioned onto Francis' neck and dragged him off. Then, in a moment of insanity, he said, “How dare you cheat on me Francis!”

 

And then kissed the bloody frog. Right on his astoundingly soft lips.

 

Francis' mouth gaped before he responded in kind.

 

“Man, you said nothing about a boyfriend. I don't sleep with couples. I'm outta here,” said the trick sounding angry.

 

The young guy walked away, already on a cellphone, calling a cab.

 

As soon as the guy was out of sight, Arthur came back to his senses, feeling Francis' hands on his hips.

 

He jumped away and rubbed the back of his hand over his lips.

 

“What the hell was that all about Francis?” grumbled Arthur, his eyes little death rays glaring at the other man and trying hard to forget about what he had just done.

 

“Excuse me? You were the one who kissed me. And what was all that about me cheating on you? We aren't in a relationship, although I must say, I enjoyed that kiss. I wouldn't be opposed to a night with you, especially since you just chased away my source of sex for tonight.”

 

Arthur snapped his hand out and slapped the man's shoulder, hard, “What if Matthew had of seen you bringing a strange man home?”

 

Francis shrugged, “He's never seen them before, even when he was in the house.”

 

Arthur smacked the man's other shoulder, despite the protest Francis made before rubbing the spot where he was hit.

 

“What is wrong with you? You leave him home alone?”

 

“No. I call tricks to me. I've been doing it every now and then for a while. What's the harm?” said Francis, sounding frustrated, as if Arthur was being unreasonable.

 

“What's the harm?? If you think for one second that Matthew doesn't know that you bring home strange men-”

 

Francis interrupted, “There are women sometimes as well.”

 

“Doesn't matter. What matters is that he likely knows.”

 

“Why do you think that? Had he said something to you about it?”

 

“Well no, but he's a smart boy.”

 

“Hmph. You're just jealous.”

 

Arthur snorted, “That you're sleeping with other people, never.”

 

As if he wanted to sleep with Francis himself, get real. Honestly!

 

Francis smirked and looked so damned smug that Arthur wanted to slap him, “No, that isn't what I meant. You're jealous that I get laid and you don't.”

 

Flushing red with embarrassment, Arthur turned and said, “G-get real.”

 

“Have you ever had sex mon cher?” asked Francis, patronizing, draping an arm around Arthur's shoulders.

 

Shaking off the offending limb, Arthur shouted, “I have. I'm not some pathetic virgin.”

 

It had just been a while. Since he had started taking care of Alfred to be precise. But Francis didn't need to know that.

 

“Hmm, I bet it's been years though. I pity you.”

 

Arthur narrowed his eyes even more than they already were, seeing out of tiny slits, “At least I stop to think about my boy first. You are just thinking with your dick. For God's sake man, bring your tricks to a hotel or something.”

 

Not that Arthur relished the idea of Francis having sex in a hotel either. He was not going to think over the whys of that feeling though. What mattered was Matthew. Arthur cared about that sweet little boy and wanted what was best for the child.

 

Francis, for once, had nothing to say. No snarky comment spoken in a smooth tone.

 

Arthur stormed away. When he got inside, he leaned on the door and scrubbed his hands over his face.

 

Had he really kissed that damned bastard?

 

Why did he still feel the tingle of Francis' lip over his?

 

Arthur had a feeling that he wasn't going to sleep that night.

 

#

 

Francis slammed down his empty wine glass. He flipped the chicken on the griddle with more force than was required, a splatter of oil hitting the top of the stove. With his hands in fists, Francis leaned back against the island counter in the middle of his kitchen.

 

Mathieu was colouring a picture on the other side of the counter and made a cough.

 

“Papa?” said the boy.

 

Francis barely heard. All he kept think about was how much gall Arthur had for making such ridiculous accusations. Really!

 

“Papa?” said Mathieu once more.

 

Looking over that time, Francis mumbled, “Quoi?”

 

“I saw you arguing with Arthur last night. I was awake and looking outside.”

 

“Oh, oui. He and I are fine though. Don't worry.”

 

Mathieu tapped the marker against the page of his colouring book nervously.

 

“I know. I just also saw the man you were with before that and I wondered...”

 

Francis suddenly felt sick to his stomach. Mathieu had seen. What else did he think or know?

 

“Are you grumpy because you didn't get to play with that man?”

 

Non...

 

Francis needed to ask, “Play?”

 

“Oui. With the grunts and you saying 'Oui!' a lot and the men and girls all jumping on the bed with you. It always wakes me up and is kind of loud and scary.”

 

What did Francis do? Dieu, what had he already done? That bastard Arthur was right.

 

Going around the counter, Francis hugged Mathieu tightly. He pet his son's soft curls. So innocent and lovely. Had Francis nearly ruined his poor child? This was why he had never been fit to be a father. He didn't know what else his little Mathieu had seen, but he knew what he had to do.

 

“Well I'm not grumpy about that. But I can tell you that I won't be bringing anymore men or women over. Okay?”

 

Mathieu smiled and hugged Francis back. Francis would make this right.

 

#

 

A few days later, after the Mathieu had gone to sleep, Francis went over to Arthur's house. He knocked on the door, not wanting to wake Alfred up with the doorbell, and waited. Under his other arm he had a box that was in a gift bag. As soon as Arthur opened the door, Francis held the gift out to him.

 

“You were right,” said Francis, making sure to keep an eye on his house, in case Mathieu came outside to find him.

 

“Of course I was,” Arthur took the gift, slid the box out and then said, “About what now?”

 

Rolling his eyes, Francis said, “About Mathieu. He did know that I was bringing people home.”

 

Arthur opened the box to reveal a fine china tea-set. The cups and plates were rimmed with silver, as was the tea-pot. Each piece had an elegant floral design. It was been rather expensive but Francis was sure Arthur would like this gift. This house always smelled strongly like tea and Francis rarely saw the man without a cup of it.

 

“And so this is for...?” asked Arthur, one bushy brow arched in question.

 

Francis resisted the urge to make an sniping remark about the other man's intelligence and mumbled, “It's to say that I'm sorry.”

 

“Oh, well it is quite nice. Since I'm a very humble man, I will forgive you.”

 

It wasn't often that Arthur got the upper hand, and seemed to be taking full advantage of that opportunity from the way he was looking over at Francis, simpering. Francis decided to let him, even if it was just for one moment.

 

“How kind of you. Now if you'll excuse me, I must go back.”

 

Just as he got to the last step off of the front porch, he heard Arthur ask, “If you want, you can stop by for tea when the boys are playing together.”

 

Francis grinned, “I'll consider it.”

 

#

 

Time passed, fluttered away like a leaf in the wind. Before Arthur knew it, he was all due and set for his graduation. He waited in the sidelines, flushed with nerves. Every few minutes he'd straighten his long black robes flick off non-existent pieces of lint. He'd worked for this for years, taken leaves of absence and spent more money on this than he'd care to think of.

 

Finally though, finally he'd done it. He was at his convocation. Graduating from University.

 

His name was called and he walked up. Arthur had his silk degree hood placed around his neck, green with white braiding. He was given his degree. It was a blur to him.

 

When he went to go back to his seat, he saw it. At the back of the room was Alfred. The boy was being so still, hands clasped at his hips, but a huge smile on his face. Francis brought him. Arthur had no idea that the man even bought tickets.

 

Of course Arthur had asked him to watch Alfred, but that Francis knew ahead of time to buy tickets. All to watch him graduate. The two of them had been talking more since Francis had apologized, but not a whole lot more. He hadn't been sure that Francis even liked him at all. At least he'd thought so. Perhaps they were friends after all.

 

When he sat back in his seat, he felt the eyes on him. He smiled wide and felt the nerves rush out of him. All that was on his mind right then were Francis' soft blue eyes.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I debated on whether or not it was realistic for an ambulance to be called for a broken arm. I broke my arm at school when I was a kid, and they just called my parents to pick me up to go to the hospital. However I think a school would call am ambulance no matter what in this day and age. The school my kindergartner goes to called us to pick him up because he tripped and bumped his leg. By the time we got there to get him, he was fine and running around playing. Schools have strict policies nowadays I suppose.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much else to say other than: You guys are great! Thanks :)

**Chapter Five**

 

It was a week after his twelfth birthday and he was hardly able to contain his excitement. Alfred had something to show his friend. He just needed to wait for the right time.

 

Matt had brought over his new game system, which was the very latest type of x-box. Both of them were really into shooting zombies, volume down on the TV of course, since Arthur hated the sounds that came from most games. So boring.

 

Matt, as usual, was winning. Alfred thought to himself that it was only because Matt owned the game. If he had it, Alfred would kick Matt's butt.

 

Just as he was about to pick up a machine gun, Arthur called to them from the front room, “Hey boys, will you be alright by yourselves for a bit? I need to pick some things up from the grocery store. The fr- sorry, Matt's father is next door if you need anything in the meantime.”

 

This was what Alfred had been waiting for. Perfect.

 

His voice came out a bit squeaky as he yelled back, “Yeah. We'll be good...fine...awesome.”

 

Arthur poked his head in and looked around with a single brown risen, “If you're sure.”

 

His older brother backed out of the room with a narrowed gaze. Alfred just grinned.

 

As soon as he heard Arthur's car pull out of the driveway, Alfred jumped to his feet and turned off the x-box. Matt looked up, lips pursed in annoyance, “Hey, I was ahead by ten points. No fair.”

 

“No time to worry about that. I have something really fantastically awesome and great to show you.”

 

He ran to the computer room and shook the mouse to get rid of the screen saver. Despite the fact that he knew that Arthur was gone, Alfred still looked over his shoulder and shivered.

 

Matt grabbed a chair from across the room and pulled it over, sitting on it backwards, arms resting on the backrest of it.

 

“What is it? Are we supposed to be doing this if you had to wait for Arthur to leave?” said Matthew, starting to sound all nervous.

 

“Probably not. But it'll be worth it. Check this out!” said Alfred, looking at the screen in awe.

 

He'd pulled up a website he'd found a few nights ago. It showed ladies. Naked ladies. Doing things to each other. It made him feel weird. Good weird.

 

“...wha...?” said Matthew, eyes as wide as saucers.

 

“It's so great, right? Which one do you wanna look at first? The one where they're licking...parts of each other or the one where they have that long pink...that's supposed to be a penis right?” Alfred said, cocking his head to the side as if that would give him a better vantage point.

 

#

 

Mathieu didn't know what to think. Oh god! What in the world was he looking at? Was that what girls looked like down there? Ew!

 

Alfred got bored of waiting and clicked one of the links to a video, wading through a thousand pop-up ads. That video was even more gross.

 

The ladies were putting their tongues on...? And their fingers in...?

 

He shuddered and wanted to look away. Mathieu had no idea what he was supposed to feel. He looked over at Alfred and saw his friend reach into his own pants. Alfred was playing with himself?

 

Oh god, oh god, now there were two places Mathieu didn't want to look. The ladies on the computer made him sort of feel like throwing up and the sight of Alfred touching himself made Mathieu start to feel hard.

 

“What the blood hell?” came a loud voice from behind them, “I forget my wallet and come back to see this?”

 

Alfred turned around super fast and then stood on his chair, as if to block the videos. The volume on the videos had been nearly turned down all the way, but they could still be heard. In the sudden silence of the room, the moans from the speakers seemed deafening.

 

This was it. Arthur was going to kill them both.

 

Mathieu could tell because Arthur was turning as red as a tomato, eyeballs twitching (which Mathieu hadn't thought possible until that very point in time), and hands balled into fists.

 

He squeezed his eyes shut and prayed for a quick death. He jolted when he felt Arthur's hand, but then opened them again when he felt himself being dragged away from the computer. The back of his shirt was fisted in one of Arthur's hands and the back of Alfred's in the other. They were being taken out of the house.

 

Taken next door.

 

Arthur didn't even knock on Mathieu's house, just flung the door open, not caring that it slammed loud against the wall.

 

“Frog! Get down here.”

 

Arthur sat both kids on the couch and paced. His face was still red. He muttered under his breath and every now and then ran his hands in the hair with exasperation.

 

#

 

“What in the world is going on?” said Francis, walking into the room, looking between the children on the couch and the pacing Arthur, who looked about to erupt, “Did somebody commit murder or something?”

 

Arthur just mumbled more unintelligible words before flopping onto a chaise lounge and holding his head in his hands, “I just don't know what to do. Of all the things. How vile!”

 

“They were just videos of naked ladies,” said Alfred, chewing on his lower lip, looking chastised.

 

Francis looked between both brothers before bursting out laughing, “You caught the boys looking at porn? Well of course they were!”

 

“Of course? It's despicable!” argued Arthur, glaring up at Francis and straightening his back, probably due to the huge stick in his ass...hmm, or perhaps lack-thereof.

 

“I was looking at magazines of naked ladies and men before I was their age. It is perfectly normal behaviour.”

 

“Oh is it? Well I didn't so that and still don't.”

 

But the way Arthur looked away, the way his flush changed and his eyes downcast. Francis could tell that the man was lying through his damn teeth. There was hardly a man alive with access to the internet that didn't look at porn at least sometimes. Francis would run with it though, never able to resist teasing Arthur, making him glare most adorably.

 

“You didn't? Mon Dieu but that explains a lot. You must be simply full of-”

 

Arthur blanched and shot to his feet, smacking Francis on the arm, “What the hell? The kids are right there.”

 

“Kids who are on the cusp of manhood!”

 

“Just because there are becoming men, doesn't mean they have to be perverts,” yelled Arthur.

 

Alfred raised his hand and asked, “What's a pervert?”

 

Francis knelt in front of both boys, his own and the boy next door who may as well have been his own since he was there half the day, and said, “Not you, that's for sure. Looking at pornography and touching yourself is a natural urge.”

 

Francis hardly noticed Mathieu flushed with red and looking away. Alfred was on the edge of his seat, curiosity etched on his every feature.

 

“It is important, when watching pornography, to try not objectify the women and men shown. They are simply people who are acting and doing a job they were paid for. Also when you get a girlfriend of your own, you must treat them with the utmost respect.”

 

Alfred darted his hand back into the air and waved it around, “But it was two girls though.”

 

Francis stroked the stubbly hair on his chin and said thoughtfully, “The rules apply even if you are with two-”

 

A sudden pain smacked the back of his head and he looked up to see Arthur looming with a snarl twisting his lips, “Shut up. Besides, Matthew is looking very uncomfortable.”

 

The boy in question whispered, “Are we in trouble?”

 

Arthur shook his head, “No. Just don't do it again, at least on my computer. Those kinds of websites aren't very good for a computer.”

 

An idea formed in his head and Francis said, “I can get you some magazi-”

 

Francis was smacked again and grumbled, “Stop that, bastard.”

 

Arthur grabbed Alfred's arm when the boy was about to agree to receiving magazines and said, “My little brother and I are going home. I'll give him a sex talk at home.”

 

And the two left, Alfred screaming, “Bye Matt!”

 

Mathieu still sat, fidgeting before he said, “Papa?”

 

Francis smiled, “Oui?”

 

The boy blushed and stood up, “Never mind.”

 

Before Mathieu could walk away, Francis put a hand on his shoulder, “Not so fast. What were you going to ask?”

 

“I...just...well...if those urges are natural, am I NOT natural?” the boy said, brokenly at the end.

 

Francis paused for a moment before regaining his ability for speech and said, “Whatever do you mean?”

 

“I found the girls gross. On the screen that is.”

 

“And what do you think about boys?”

 

Mathieu shrugged but sucked both of his lips into his mouth.

 

Interesting. Francis dropped the subject and made them supper. That night, when Mathieu was having a shower, Francis sneaked in and put two if his magazines on the edge of the sink. One was with naked ladies, the other with naked men.

 

When he went into the bathroom later, when Mathieu was asleep, only the magazine with the ladies remained on the sink.

 

Francis' methods may be different from others, but right about then, he felt like a success as a parent.

 

#

 

“Matt.”

 

Mathieu cracked open his eyes and through blurry eyes, glanced at his alarm clock. Two am. Great.

 

“Yeah?” he whispered over to his friend who laid in the bed beside him.

 

It was just them in Matt's bedroom. Just a sleepover between best friends. With Alfred nearly plastered to Matt's side, having no concept of personal boundaries.

 

“Are you nervous for Monday?” asked Alfred.

 

“I guess, a little.”

 

“Grade nine is a big deal.”

 

“I guess. Go to sleep. I'm tired.”

 

Alfred threw his arms around Matt and plastered the rest of his body tight to him, “We'll still be friends, right?”

 

“Yeah, why wouldn't we be?” asked Mathieu, too used to Alfred being clingy and too tired to react at the closeness of the other boy's body.

 

“Cause Arthur said something about meeting new people and getting new friends in high school.”

 

“I'm sure we will meet new people too.”

 

“But what happens if I find a new friend and then you get mad at me again cause I accidentally ignore you. I don't want you to not be my friend.”

 

Mathieu sleepily blinked up at his friend, who was now almost completely over top of him, “You're weird. You won't forget me. I know that now. I'm older.”

 

“What if you forget me?”

 

Smiling, Matt kissed his friend's cheek and then shoved him away, “Never.”

 

Because he wouldn't. Not ever.

 

#

 

Every now and then, Arthur and Francis would go out for dinner. Really though, it was Francis dragging poor Arthur out somewhere with the reasoning that the Brit had no life. Which was a complete lie. Arthur had a really fun life.

 

He worked a lot at the publishing company that he was employed at. Sometimes his co-workers took him out for a coffee every now and then. And Alfred was in the tenth grade, so talking to him was almost like talking to an adult. If adults spoke mostly about zombies, eating junk food, movies about aliens and girls. Many probably did.

 

So it really wasn't as bad as Francis made it seem.

 

Nevertheless, Arthur was perched on a high and uncomfortable stool. He sipped a beer and sneered over at Francis. The man was swaying back and forth, holding a glass of red wine. Club music pounded around them. A mix of electric beats and peppy pop that Arthur didn't recognize. Francis was nearing middle age and yet somehow stood there, basking in the multi-coloured lights like some kind God of club-kids everywhere.

 

“I hate this. I want to go home,” said Arthur, scowling and taking another sip of amber liquid.

 

“Well let us dance, then you will see how great this can be,” said Francis, placing a hand on Arthur's shoulder, “Sitting there isn't any fun at all, unless you are hoping for somebody to come pick you up.”

 

“Oh god. I'd rather die.”

 

“I should hope not. Who would be there to bring me nasty tasting scones if you were gone?”

 

Arthur swatted at Francis only for the nimble man to dance out of reach. Francis spread his arms and wiggled his hips, “Join me?”

 

He couldn't dance. He pumped his arms up and down without much enthusiasm, close to his chest. Stepping side to side, Arthur swayed his hips every now and again. This felt mortifying to Arthur but even more so when Francis wrapped one arm around his shoulder and placed a hand on his hip.

 

“What are you doing?” screeched Arthur, voice nearly drowned out by the pulse of sounds around them

 

“Dancing, just like everybody else is doing?” said Francis, swaying seductively.

 

What was this man doing to him? Arthur had been thinking about Francis for years. Held a bloody idiotic crush. Francis didn't feel the same. Instead, the frog seemed to enjoy bringing him out to places and doing embarrassing stuff just to tease him. The Frenchman would torment him mercilessly because that was what he did. Francis was the epitome of sex, would do anybody.

 

Of course, Arthur knew if he asked, Francis would fuck him. But Arthur didn't want that. He wanted more than that, damn his stupid little heart. He wanted to be made love to, despite how much the thought made him blush and feel like a woman.

 

Francis rubbed against the back of him, tight jeans not leaving an inch of the man to the imagination and allowing Arthur to feel everything. Francis trailed a hand up Arthur's side which nearly incited a moan from him. Why was this man trying to kill him?

 

Why was Arthur grinding back into Francis so easily, acting so wanton in public?

 

They danced, spinning to face each other. Arthur drank more, and stopped caring how badly he moved. Stopped caring about the little twinks who sneered his way and called him old (which he wasn't, damn them, he was only in his mid-thirties).

 

He barely noticed how Francis dipped his head and sucked at Arthur's adam’s apple, kissed down his neck. He barely noticed how much Francis drank as well, and how the Frenchman went from wine, to shots.

 

And he most certain didn't make the conscious decision to go back to Francis' home when they stumbled out of their shared taxi. Their delicious embrace and smoked whiskey and beer flavoured kisses. Moving, writhing on satin sheets and more, oh, more. Flashes of sensations, fleeting. Then sleep.

 

No, what Arthur did remember with utter clarity, was waking up with a splitting headache, and an aching ass. Feeling oh so sated, but with a certain Frenchman laying beside him.

 

He slipped out of bed as fast as he could, despite the jackhammer between his eyes, and made his way back home. Perhaps Francis wouldn't realize what had happened.

 

What he didn't see was Francis' eyes, open and brow furrowed at Arthur's departure. He didn't hear the man heave a deep sigh that was tinged with something akin to dejection.

 

#

 

Water poured over his shoulders and head as he sat at the bottom of the tub, shower pounding down on him. Arthur groaned.

 

God. He couldn't believe what he'd done. He'd had so much to drink that he'd lost all of his senses and slept with Francis. It would have meant nothing to Francis, the sex. Arthur couldn't even believe that he didn't remember his first time with the only man he'd had any real attachment to.

 

He would have liked for the memories to be with him, stay with him for a lifetime. He'd never get another opportunity like this again, because he'd make sure it never came up. Drinking would be personally banned from any activity that he did with Francis.

 

Grabbing his loofah, he covered it in far more soap than was required and washed his body. He needed to get the intoxicating scent of Francis' cologne off of his body. It was driving him crazy and despite how much he wanted to roll in the smell, he needed it off for his own sanity.

 

“Um, Arthur? I need to piss,” said Alfred on the other side of the bathroom door.

 

“Don't swear,” Arthur called out weakly, not even sure he'd been heard.

 

“You've been in there for a long time. Say something now or I'll go get my tools and take the door down to see if you're okay,” said Alfred, in full worry mode, probably pacing.

 

“I'm fine,” said Arthur, yelling, “Just tired and moving slow. Don't you dare get out those tools.”

 

Because he knew that Alfred would be able to remove the door in no time flat. For the boy's fourteenth birthday, Arthur had gifted Alfred with a toolbox filled to the brim. One Alfred hit puberty, he enjoyed taking everything apart and fixing things. It had been high time to give Alfred his own tools in a better quality than the ones Arthur had purchased from the dollar store for himself.

 

Though Arthur hadn't been very happy when, a week after having given the gift, he woke up to find Alfred with his body leaned over and peeking under the hood of the car. There had been engine parts all over the driveway.

 

There had been yelling, just a little bit of it. It hadn't been the best way to wake up, knowing that he'd have to pay a mechanic to fix whatever Alfred had done.

 

Except that the boy had put everything back perfectly. And the weird noise that his car had been making was gone.

 

It had been quite impressive, even if it was sort of irritating to have his car taken apart so often for 'tune-ups'.

 

“Okay, I won't,” said Alfred who then added without shame, “But I still need to piss, sorry pee.”

 

Arthur wasn't in the mood to think about the swear word again, since as far as curses went, it wasn't that bad. Also, telling his little brother not to swear likely made him a hypocrite.

 

“Oh, somebody's at the door. I'll go answer it,” said Alfred suddenly and Arthur began to panic.

 

Matthew didn't knock, and not many other people came over. God, Arthur hoped it was a delivery for something. He quickly rinsed himself off and wrapped a towel around his waist. Arthur ran to his room and slammed the door.

 

All he knew was that he didn't want to see that damned-

 

The door to his room opened right behind Arthur and he spun to be face to face with Francis.

 

“I told the boy to go see a movie with Mathieu and gave him money. We're all alone mon amour,” said Francis, cooing and cupping one of Arthur’s cheeks.

 

Arthur shoved Francis away hard enough that the long-haired man stumbled away and had to catch himself on the side of the nearby dresser. He panted and angrily donned a bathrobe, letting the towel drop to the floor once the garment was tied.

 

“Why are you here?” yelled Arthur.

 

Not even phased by being pushed, Francis sashayed closer, “Sex? I don't remember much of last night. But I know I spent it with you and based on how amazingly content I felt, it was fantastic sex. Who knew you would be such a great lay?”

 

“Leave my house you...you...slut.”

 

“Mmm, you call me a slut. Yet you were the one crying out for 'more, oh yes Francis, more'.”

 

“I was drunk,” spat Arthur, perching on the edge of his bed and wrapping his arms around himself.

 

“So was I, and I'd like to have the full experience while my head isn't hazy with wine and whiskey.”

 

“As if I'd make that mistake again,” said Arthur, not raising his voice that time, just staring at the light green carpet.

 

“A mistake hmmm?” said Francis, his seductiveness dropping away, “So that's how it is. Fine.”

 

His pathetically swooning heart cried out for him to say that it wasn't how it was. That Arthur didn't think it was a mistake. Not really. But his mind forbade him from speaking, forced him to keep his mouth shut.

 

And let Francis walk right out of his room.

 

#

 

After that night. That one mind-blowing night of sex, Francis hadn't been the same. Arthur was all that was on his mind. He'd had so much sex. More than he could count. He loved it.

 

Yet one night with his neighbour was enough to make him unable to seek warmth with another person. Not even a woman. Because he'd realized something.

 

Francis Bonnefoy, player and lover extraordinaire, had fallen in love with a cold-hearted man of ice. One who would never feel the same way as he did. He didn't even know when it had happened.

 

Maybe it had been one of the times when Arthur had cleaned and bandaged a cut or scrape on Mathieu's skin as if the boy was his own? Perhaps that time when Arthur had brought over a pot of hot tea when Francis was sick? Or those nasty biscuits that were, nevertheless, baked with love and brought over for Francis.

 

He didn't know.

 

What he did know was that life wasn't fair, that Arthur was just so cruel as to reject his advances.

 

Perhaps Francis needed to express his feelings in a different way? Maybe sex and seduction wouldn't do it?

 

Francis draped the end of his silk scarf back over his shoulder when the wind tried to blow it off. He walked down the sidewalk and into the warmth of a small cafe that he liked to visit near his home. The bold and slightly nutty aroma filling his senses as he floated to the counter.

 

After ordering a cappuccino, he turned and saw Arthur sitting at a table. The one Francis always sat in.

 

“Well, well mon ami. What are you doing here?”

 

The man widened his green eyes for a moment and nearly looked panicked before glaring and saying, “None of your business.”

 

Francis sat down in the seat across from Arthur and crossed his legs at the knee, “You are wearing quite nice clothes. Not your stuffy work clothes, but not casual either. Were you, perhaps, waiting for a date?”

 

Before, Francis had never been the jealous type. Now he gritted his teeth in frustration. He refused to let it show.

 

“No.”

 

“So why do you have a flower all nice and wrapped in front of you?”

 

“I liked it. So I bought it for myself.”

 

Francis sipped his beverage and then said, “That's sort of sad.”

 

And adorable.

 

Arthur looked at the table, “Just leave.”

 

There was a tremble in that voice, so Francis set down his cup and looked even closer to the man across from him. There was such an air of nervousness to him. Had he been stood up? Or had he maybe, just maybe, been waiting for Francis?

 

“If he couldn't bring himself to show up, he's not worth your time. You deserve somebody who will always be there for you,” said Francis, sipping his drink once more before taking a fashion magazine out of his coat pocket and holding it up in front of himself to look through it to hide the frown on his face.

 

He heard nothing from Arthur, who after several minutes, got up and left. When Francis put down the magazine and considered going up to the counter for a biscotti, he saw it. The rose that Arthur had, was pushed as close as possible to Francis.

 

On a card that was attached to the rose was something written. Francis brought it closer and nearly dropped the flower.

 

“Francis. I love you, you damned idiot.”

 

Huh?

 

#

 

Arthur was an idiot. Seriously. Harbouring a crush on Francis like a bloody school-girl. For years. He'd been simply unable to tell the guy how he felt. It didn't help that the frog slept around like the world was going to end.

 

Oh sure the guy had made sure to not do it at his own home. But Arthur always knew why Francis would bring Mathieu over to Arthur's for sleepovers on the weekends. It was so that the man could go find a trick.

 

He knew.

 

And he hated it.

 

Arthur supposed that he was stupid for feeling as if the two of them had been like a family. They'd practically raised the boys together.

 

He'd been able to ignore it for years as well. He'd dated every now and then. However he'd always been busy with school and then work. Nothing had ever panned out. No man became a close enough to Arthur for him to want to use the word 'relationship'.

 

Yet with the boys at the age where they were dating, Arthur felt pathetic that he didn't have anybody in his life. Anybody but Francis, who he held a flame for.

 

And that drunken night wasn't leaving him. Instead, he was consumed.

 

Arthur knew he had to do something. So he came up with that dumb idea to confess his love. Even though it wasn't going to get him anywhere.

 

He was nearly home when he heard the sound of somebody running behind him. He brought out his hand to smack his attacker when he saw Francis.

 

“You know. It's hard to run in Gucci loafers.”

 

“I never asked you to.”

 

Francis put a finger under Arthur's chin and forced their eyes to meet, “Why didn't you ever tell me?”

 

“Because you've slept with half of Canada and you only seemed to want to use me for good sex. Probably because I'm close-by.”

 

“You are such a romantic,” said Francis, rolling his eyes.

 

“It's true though, deny it..”

 

“I will. I may have flirted with you when we first met, in hopes for easy sex. But now it's more. I've been flirting with you for a while and I think I've loved you for longer than I even realize,” said Francis, running his fingers over Arthur's cheek and the back to cup his head, “How long have you felt the way you do, mon cher?”

 

“I don't know. A while.”

 

“A year or so?”

 

“Probably longer,” said Arthur, lips thinned and trying not to meet those piercing blue eyes.

 

“Tell me,” said Francis, sounding more strict than he ever had before, voice husky.

 

Francis' lips were devastatingly close and Arthur could smell the sweet scent of cappuccino on his breath. The warmth from the man's skin seeped into Arthur.

 

“Since I first saw you bring that trick home all those years ago and...dammit, let's at least go inside.”

 

“Very well.”

 

Arthur was glad that Alfred was busy hanging out with friends, or whatever else a kid his age did. Arthur had barely any idea, since all of his own high school career was spent in studies. He hadn't had crushes back then, or boyfriends. This was all new to him.

 

The most Arthur had in the past was a few one-night-stands when he was sick and tired of having sex with his hand. Aside of course from the sex he and Francis had that Arthur couldn't remember properly, no matter how often he tried when he masturbated.

 

So even before Francis pressed his lips to Arthur's, he was hard as a rock. As soon as they got inside the house, Arthur ran upstairs.

 

Once in the room, they didn't continue their conversation. Instead, Francis slammed Arthur against the inside of the door and roughly pressed his lips to Arthur's, tongue demanding immediate entrance. The feel of blonde stubble rubbing against his own rather smooth face. Hands running down the sides of his body.

 

Arthur bit his lip to keep in the sounds that wanted to escape.

 

Francis sucked on the sensitive skin of his neck. Arthur clawed at those designer shirt clad shoulders. Their hips met and rubbed.

 

Reaching between them, Francis freed their cocks and took them both in hand. Electricity burst through Arthur, a release of over ten years of sexual tension and longing. He rutted his dick through Francis' warm hand and couldn't stop the whimper of pleasure that ripped from his mouth.

 

Francis' mouth roamed everywhere, licking, kissing and nipping; rough and demanding. Arthur knew he'd be covered in marks afterwards but didn't care because it felt so damned good.

 

“More.”

 

“More what?” teased Francis sucking one of his newly exposed nipples into his mouth.

 

“A-ah, more anything. I-I don't care. Just- Oh mercy.”

 

“Bossy bottom.”

 

Arthur flushed and nearly shouted, “I'm no sissy bottom. I'm-”

 

His words came to an abrupt halted when Francis sucked his cock down his throat like the expert that he so obviously was. Arthur never thought about Francis' experience being a good thing. Right then, with all of that intoxicating heat around his dick, Arthur wanted to cry out thanks for every man who'd given Francis this level of expert technique.

 

He didn't last long, cumming down Francis' throat in a large gush and a sigh of release. Sliding down the door, he noticed that Francis had taken a handkerchief out of his pocket and was wiping his own dick.

 

“You don't need...ahem...a hand?” asked Arthur, too worn out to think straight.

 

Francis smirked and pressed a kiss to Arthur's cheek.

 

Before the two men could say anything else, loud stomping came up the stairs. An equally loud voice broke out on the other side.

 

“Hey Arthur! Can I borrow a few bucks?” said Alfred, also knocking on the door.

 

Arthur turned red from head to toe and slapped a hand over Francis' mouth to stop the bastard from running his mouth. He wasn't ready to say anything to the boy yet.

 

“Fine. T-Take a ten from my wallet downstairs,” said Arthur, trying to keep his voice even.

 

“Can I have twenty?” wheedled Alfred.

 

“Whatever just take it.”

 

“Are you okay bro?” said Alfred, suddenly sounding super concerned, “Are you being attacked in there? Because you know that I work out like a frickin' champ, I can kick your attacker's ass.”

 

“I'm fine. Just leave,” said Arthur, voice growing squeaky.

 

Francis put a hand over his own mouth to muffle his chuckles, blue eyes dancing with amusement.

 

“Okay. If you're sure. Don't say I didn't try to help though, 'kay?”

 

With that last statement, Alfred tromped back downstairs.

 

Francis slid closer, straddling Arthur's lap. He kissed up Arthur's jaw and then whispered into the man's ear, “So what now my dear?”

 

“Let's just take things one step at a time,” said Arthur, resting his forehead on Francis' shoulder.

 

“Very well,” said Francis.

 

Leaning his head on his new lover's shoulder, Arthur said, very calm, “And if you ever cheat on me, I will slice your balls off with a rusty knife.”

 

“Of course I wouldn't do that to you. I've already had my fair share of sex. I don't think I'll have the desire to stray to see what else is out there. I've picked you because you're worth it,” said Francis, shuffling backwards on his knees a bit at the dark look in Arthur's eyes, “That and you are a bit scary, though adorable when you're mad.”

 

Arthur grinned wide and feral and said, “I'll show you adorable, frog!”

 

The house became filled with the sound of squawks of discomfort and , “Ow! My hair,” and then, not more than a minute or two later, pleasure.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possible Trigger Warning: Use of the word 'fag' and not in the, "I'm gay and I reclaim this word" kinda way. 
> 
> Updates may come after three or fours days after this, because I'm doing more tweaking and additions before I send out the next chapter.

**Chapter Six**

 

**High school, Grade 12**

 

Mathieu opened his locker and put in the books that he didn't need to bring home that night. His backpack was already full to the brim with the homework he did have. University level classes were tough but he felt so good about himself when he did well in them. He was still pretty up in the air though, with what he wanted to go to University for.

 

On the back of the open door of his locker, Mathieu heard a soft rapping. He closed the door, trying his best to not let it slam with a loud bang, and looked into the blue eyes of Katerina. She had a huge smile on her face and bounced in place, holding up a piece of paper so that he could see.

 

“Oh wow! You did so well on that test,” exclaimed Mathieu, peering over his glasses at the one hundred percent mark.

 

“I know, right. I studied so hard for so long. If I do this well on all the tests, the final exam ought to be a breeze.”

 

“Maybe this calls for a celebration. We can go out for food, my treat,” said Mathieu.

 

“You'd better, since you, y'know, only promised to last week,” said Kat closing her backpack that she'd just slipped her test into.

 

She slung her bag over one of her shoulders.

 

“You know that's bad for your back,” said Mathieu, pointing out the backpack worn improperly, “You'll have enough back problems as it is.”

 

When he said that, he looked pointedly at his friend's huge assets and dodged a swat to the arm. Mathieu waggled his eyebrows. She smacked his head and pretended to tear up.

 

Mathieu had long ago got over his shyness around Katerina and was okay with teasing her, though he'd never even think of doing that with anybody else. And Kat was okay with him making boob jokes, because...well...

 

Leaning close, Kat whispered, “You saw Alfred this morning, right? So cute!”

 

Matt blushed and nodded, looking around himself in a panic in case anybody was around. That last thing he wanted was for Alfred to find out that Matt had a huge crush on him, even if it was pretty obvious.

 

“Of course. He drove me to school. Would have driven me home too, before his date, but I had to stay late. Obviously, since you're here and I'm here late.”

 

Just as Kat went to rub Mathieu's shoulder in consolation, he said, “It's fine. Don't worry. It's just a silly crush.”

 

“Matt...I think you should tell him.”

 

By that point they were almost out to Katerina's car, a small green beater that only ever barely sputtered to life. Matt decided to ignore what his friend said to focus on who was by the car. Kat's little brother Ivan was beside it, leaning against the side and fiddling with the long white scarf that Katerina had knit for him. Though Mathieu supposed that calling the sixteen year old, 'little', wasn't correct. Ivan was in grade eleven and taller than Mathieu's own five-nine, at five-ten and still growing. Ivan worked out and had a creepy vibe to him, even though he smiled most of the time.

 

“Oh sis, you brought Matthew. Unexpected. Let me ride with you.”

 

Kat hugged her little brother. She was always very protective of him. Her home life wasn't the greatest, her parents never home and drunk when they were.

 

“Of course Vanya.”

 

Just as he was about to get into the front seat, Ivan tugged him into the backseat.

 

Did Mathieu mention that Ivan also had a huge and very obvious crush on him.

 

No?

 

Well he did. And Matt was too freaked out to even bother to turn him down, even though Ivan was too shy to outright ask Matt out.

 

He'd tried to tell Kat that he knew how Ivan felt about him, only for her to say, “Nonsense. Vanya's still a sweet little boy. He is too young to think such thoughts about people yet.”

 

Did he mention that his best female friend was also incredibly naive when it came to her family?

 

No?

 

Well she was.

 

Thankfully Ivan was, at heart, a decent guy. He just stared at Mathieu. A lot.

 

“So where to? I mean, since you're paying,” said Katerina when she stopped at a red light.

 

“The usual diner,” replied Matt.

 

“Taking a girl on a date to the diner? So romantic,” snorted Katerina without a trace of elegance.

 

Ivan's eyes widened, “You're dating? I didn't know.”

 

Matt thunked his head on the side window and groaned, “No. I'd probably die if I tried.”

 

“Vaginas kill gay men Vanya. You'll understand when you're older.”

 

Matt didn't have the heart to tell Kat that he'd lent Ivan one of his porn mags, since the Braginsky's didn't allow internet. So very barbaric.

 

Ivan had walked in on Matt putting one away in his room. His Papa always let pretty much anybody into the house and never bothered to tell Mathieu when somebody was there.

 

“Good, because I'd be sad if you and my sister were dating,” said Ivan in that shy voice of his as he leaned in a couple of inches closer to Mathieu.

 

Shifting as far away as possible, Mathieu was nearly weeping for joy when the diner came into view. He jumped from the car and ran to Katerina's side and hissed in her ear, “I swear, if I didn't love you.”

 

“What?” asked Katerina, blinking owlishly.

 

The insane thing was that out of the three Braginsky siblings, Kat and Ivan were the most normal. Mathieu was glad that he would be graduating before next year when their younger sister Natasha would be there.

 

Mon Dieu! Mathieu really didn't like going to the Braginsky house. Kat would always go to Matt's. That was fine with her, she preferred his house as well.

 

With Kat on one side and Ivan plastered to his other, Mathieu didn't see the red, white and blue coloured Mustang in the parking lot. It wasn't until he got inside and heard that oh so very familiar voice call out to him.

 

“Matt! Over here,” yelled Alfred across the restaurant, getting dirty looks from a nearby dining family whose ears he'd shouted into.

 

Knowing that there was really no way to avoid Alfred once he'd been noticed, Mathieu walked over. He cringed when he saw...her. Matt felt like a heel that he was so jealous of her and always had to resist the urge to scowl at her.

 

Her...Michelle Mancham. Even being gay, Mathieu could see what Alfred saw in her. She had gorgeous locks of dark brown hair that was tied into two pigtails and flowed over her silky brown skin. Her winter coat was folded beside her and she was wearing a puffy blue sundress.

 

Alfred's girlfriend of almost a year.

 

She smiled and waved, her other hand hidden by the table. So was Alfred's.

 

Awesome. They were holding hands.

 

Well, they were on a date after all.

 

“I thought you two were on a date?” said Mathieu quietly, sitting across from Alfred after hanging his coat up on the rack attached to the booth.

 

Ivan slid in beside him – great – and Kat was on the outside of the booth.

 

“Yeah. We are! But then you came in. Why's that guy here?” said Alfred, his entire body deflating and his eyes narrowed onto Ivan.

 

Mathieu frowned at Alfred, “Be nice.”

 

“Don't wanna. He's a jerk,” pouted Alfred.

 

Ivan just cocked his head and smiled. Mathieu noticed, and didn't care, how Ivan cracked his knuckles.

 

Katerina said, “I still don't get why you don't like Vanya. He's so sweet.”

 

Alfred snorted and opened his mouth to start the rant.

 

Mathieu rested his head on the table and muttered, “Oh here we go.”

 

“Number one: He's a jerk,” said Alfred, holding up one finger.

 

Kat shook her head “Not true and also you already said that.”

 

Alfred popped out his lower lip, “Fine. One: he and I were both in the science club in elementary school. The one for grade sevens and eights? We both wanted to build rockets to launch them into the sky. I was so close to getting mine done and then one day, he just brings his out and launches it first.”

 

Michelle sipped her soda and then said, “I don't see how that makes him-”

 

“Two: He started hanging out with that Carlos guy, the one with the dreadlocks who is always eating ice cream? They were at the McDonald’s I work at and were threatening me.”

 

Eyes wide, Kat looked over at Ivan and said, “Is that true?”

 

“Well he was being all flashy, with his car painted with American colours-” started Ivan, slumping his shoulders as Kat stared at him, “Even though this is Canada.”

 

“Captain America colours. Dude seriously, keep up.”

 

Ivan continued over Alfred as if the guy hadn't spoken, “And we didn't threaten him. It's not my fault that I put a bunch of paint ball guns and paint balls in Carlos' car and Alfred got all weird about it for some reason.”

 

“You came up to the counter all talking about how you were going to shoot my car up with paint balls.”

 

Ivan giggled under his breath. Actually giggled before getting serious with a frightening swiftness and frowned, saying, “Well that's because you began the rumour that I started the plague when I got the flu first last year at school and a bunch of other students started getting sick.”

 

Alfred scoffed and said with a mouthful of french fries, “That's because you probably did. I mean, you and your family lives in that big, scary house that's likely full of ghosts. Who knows what you're up to in there.”

 

Kat crossed her arms over her chest and said, “Hey, I thought you were my friend.”

 

Looking significantly chagrined, Alfred said, “Well not you, Kat. Your Matt's good friend. But your brother is evil and your little sister gives me the frickin' creeps man.”

 

Matt glared at Alfred, “Can you please stop insulting her family? Kat is my friend and Ivan isn't really that bad of a guy. None of the reasons you've given are good reasons to not like him.”

 

Ivan beamed beside him and Matt groaned when the guy slung an arm around his shoulder. Why did he have to say that? Now Ivan would be incorrigible.

 

Alfred glared at the arm and jammed more fries in his mouth.

 

Michelle cleared her throat and said, “Why don't we change the subject?”

 

As soon as Ivan shuffled his body closer to Matt, Alfred said, “Plus I saw him one night outside of Matt's house, looking at his window. I think he was drawing a map of his backyard for some reason.”

 

Matt's body jolted.

 

Ivan coughed and then said, “I was drawing a picture of his house, not a map.”

 

“You were outside of my house at night?” said Matt, trying to wiggle away from Ivan, “That's creepy.”

 

Alfred straightened his back and grinned, “See. I told you. He's weird man.”

 

“It was going to be a gift for Matthew,” said Ivan.

 

“Except that I saw you out there like two years ago. When were you going to give him the picture?” argued Alfred, standing up, hands resting on the table and upper body leaning forward.

 

Ivan stood up too, “When I was ready.”

 

Matthew was more and more uncomfortable. He had just wanted to have dinner with Kat. And it turned into this.

 

The last straw was seeing Michelle stand up and wrap her slender arms around Alfred's chest and saying soothing words into his ears to clam him down. Matt looked down and nudged rapidly at Kat's shoulder to get her to move out. He slid by the standing Ivan.

 

She looked at him in concern, “What...”

 

Matt handed Kat a twenty, “For dinner. I know I owe you. I'll walk home.”

 

He grabbed the first coat that he saw and ran out, despite hearing the protests from Kat and Alfred alike. He didn't stop moving until his chest hurt and the cold air stung his lungs. His breath billowed out in puffy clouds of white in the cold night air. Matt leaned against a lamp post.

 

Why?

 

That just sucked.

 

First Ivan the creeper. Then Kat who didn't see how weird her brother was. Then Alfred lobbing insults at Ivan instead of trying to get along for dinner. That's all Matt did. Sure he was weirded out by Ivan, but he got along and made peace. It's what he did. Why did Alfred always have to start fights?

 

And why did he have to be with Michelle?

 

...Why did he have to be straight?

 

#

 

Mathieu, not caring about the cold, walked around until he got downtown. He'd made sure to text his Papa, just to make sure that the man didn't worry. The sky was dark above, street lights drowning out the twinkling stars. How unfortunate.

 

Hands shoved in his pockets, he must have left his gloves in his school locker. He shivered. When he'd run out of the diner, he realized that he'd grabbed Alfred's brown bomber jacket that had a big number 'fifty' on the back. Mathieu knew that he must have really made a fail of an exit since he mistook Al's jacket for his own. His was white with a fur trim.

 

“Hey! Alfred you asshole. Here alone are you?” called a voice from behind him.

 

Mathieu's eyes widened and he ducked into a space beside two buildings. Who in the world was calling out for Alfred. Whoever it was sounded sort of familiar.

 

The last thing that Mathieu wanted was more conflict, so he ran out between the buildings and out of the back. It really was probably a bad idea, running at night, further away from people, from witnesses.

 

Stupid stupid stupid.

 

From behind him he heard, “Get back here! I didn't know you were a coward as well.”

 

Then, he came to a dead end.

 

Quickly, Mathieu turned around and put up his fists in front of his face.

 

The voice was closer, “I heard that you were hanging around my sister. People said you were flirting with her in the cafeteria.”

 

Opening his mouth to say something to defend himself, or Alfred, all that came out was a whine.

 

“Look how pathetic you look. Always walking through the high school like you own the place, everybody wrapped around your finger. Well I can see how much of a douche you are. You and those asshole jocks you hang out with. I'm going to show you now how I feel. Then you'll stay the hell away from my sister.”

 

Just as the guy, whoever it was – Mathieu still had his hands in blocking his sight – went to punch, Mathieu cried out, “Please no!”

 

The fist stopped in mid-air and the guy said, “Huh? Wait, you aren't Alfred. Wait! Aren't you that blond kid who follows him around?”

 

Mathieu wanted to be offended at that, but it was probably a true assessment of his relationship with Alfred. He looked up and saw that the person who'd followed him was Carlos, that guy who'd threatened to paintball Al's car. The one who was friends with Ivan.

 

Looking significantly more calm, Carlos scratched the back of his neck and said, “Wow, uh...sorry for chasing you and scaring you like that.”

 

“I-it's okay,” stammered Mathieu, even though it wasn't since he was still shaking, “But Al isn't that bad y'know.”

 

Carlos took a long piece of thin fabric from his coat pocket and tied back his mass of dreadlocks before saying, “He was flirting with my sister. She's only in grade ten.”

 

Mathieu shook his head and started making his way back to the main downtown area, “He's like that with everybody. He didn't mean anything by it. Alfred's really a noble guy. He'd never hurt your sister and besides, he's with Michelle. Has been for a year.”

 

Carlos followed. Mathieu looked out from the corner of his eyes and noticed the sheepish look on the other guy's face.

 

“Whatever. I still don't see how anybody can stand to be around him. And I'm still sorry for doing that to you though. You're a pretty good guy, least Ivan always says that.”

 

Mathieu sat down on a bench and look up at the sky, “He's a good friend. Very devoted and loyal. And thanks, I guess.”

 

“He has an ego bigger than his damned body,” said Carlos, pulling out a pack of cigarettes that was slightly crumpled and offered Matt one.

 

Having been sneaking cigarettes from his Papa for about a year, Mathieu took one. He'd been smoking for almost as long as Alfred had been dating Michelle but Mathieu refused to think too much about that. Refused to think about how much Alfred would yell at him if he knew.

 

“True. But he's fun to be around. Have you tried to get to know him?” asked Mathieu.

 

Carlos breathed the smoke into the air and said, “Why? Seeing him posture all over the soccer field every year. He looks down on everybody. Just like all popular kids.”

 

“He doesn't though. I mean...since that incident in the McDonald’s with you, Ivan and Alfred, you aren't his favourite person. But he'd give you a chance, I'm sure.”

 

“You talk as if you are in love with the guy,” snorted Carlos.

 

Mathieu just looked down, cigarette dangling between his index and middle finger. He didn't answer. He was terrible at lying and didn't want to admit the truth. Not once had he said the words out loud. Even Katerina knew only because she guessed, since she knew Mathieu so well.

 

Carlos looked over, surprise wrinkling his forehead, “Wait, are you?”

 

Mathieu shrugged.

 

“Wow, man, that sucks. I know how it feels like though.”

 

“You...do?” said Mathieu

 

Carlos nodded solemnly, “To like somebody and yet have them like somebody else.”

 

“Who?”

 

“Promise not to tell?”

 

“Of course,” said Mathieu, adding every bit of seriousness to his voice that he could.

 

“Ivan. But as I'm sure you can tell, he has a huge crush on you.”

 

“I know,” said Mathieu and then asked, “Have you told him?”

 

“Have you told Alfred?”

 

Mathieu sighed and slumped in the bench, “No. I'm pretty sure that he doesn't even know I'm gay. He's sort of oblivious.”

 

“What about all of the things you just said about the guy being so amazing,” said Carlos with a hint of sarcasm.

 

“He still is; he's just also a bit clueless.”

 

Flicking his cigarette butt to the ground, making Mathieu cringe, Carlos got up.

 

“Wanna get some ice cream?”

 

Mathieu took one last drag from his cig and snuffed it out into a puddle before tossing it into a garbage can, “It's November.”

 

“So, places still sell ice cream. Think of it as an apology for chasing you.”

 

“O-okay.”

 

#

 

The smell of burnt scones filled Alfred's lungs as he paced back in forth in front of the window in the living room. Every minute he looked back outside and then huffed when he didn't see anything.

 

“Maybe I should go back over there and see if Matt's home yet,” he muttered.

 

Arthur, covered in an apron and smelling like a walking bio-hazard, came up behind Alfred and smacked the back of his head.

 

“Ow! Arthur,” whined Alfred, “What was that for?”

 

“For being a moron. He's seventeen. He'll be fine.”

 

“But he's not answering my texts.”

 

“Maybe he turned his phone off.”

 

“Maybe he's laying dead in a ditch somewhere.”

 

Arthur rolled his eyes and then held up a plastic container that was filled with scones, “He isn't, now take one of these and shove it in your hole.”

 

“I'm not hungry.”

 

Arthur turned around and said, “Fine, I'll just throw them out.”

 

Alfred snatched one out of the plastic container, “I didn't say that I wouldn't have one.”

 

Munching on it, even though it wasn't that great, Alfred thought back on the night. Why had Matt done that? Was it because Alfred had insulted the brother of Matt's girlfriend? It had to be it. Really, Matt hadn't even come out and told Alfred that he and Katerina were dating. So that relationship must still be pretty fragile.

 

Alfred knew it though. He knew Mathieu like the back of his hand because they were best friends.

 

In front of Matthew's house rolled a car. It's headlights were on, so Alfred couldn't see who was inside. However Matt came out of it, leaning inside and then went to go up his driveway. The car drove away and Alfred could see a huge, happy grin on Matt's face.

 

Alfred didn't bother with a coat. He just jammed his feet into Arthur's slippers, not listening to his brother’s cries to 'take those damn things off before you bloody wreck them' and ran outside.

 

“MATT!!!! MAAAAATTTTT!” cried Alfred, throwing himself onto Matt.

 

Shoving his face into the crook of Matt's neck, Alfred mumbled, “I'm so sorry for whatever I did to make you angry. Forgive me?”

 

“You're loud,” said Matt, but hugging back anyway, “Seriously, it's eleven. You've probably woken up the neighbours.”

 

“They're used to it by now. And why are you only coming back at eleven. You never do that unless you are with Kat. But you weren't with Kat. You ran away and took my jacket. And hey...why do you and my jacket smell like cigarettes. And why was there a lighter in yours?”

 

Matthew shuffled his feet on the spot and then laughed in a weird way, all crackly and high pitched, and then said, “I like to light candles a lot and the guy I was with smoked.”

 

“You sm-” started Alfred, yelling, ready to begin shaking Matthew before his friend slapped a hand over his mouth.

 

“Shut up! Do you want Arthur to lecture me?”

 

Despite his anger at the fact that his friend was smoking, Alfred did think it was sort of funny that Matthew was more worried about Arthur being angry than his own father.

 

“Maybe he should. I don't want you to die of cancer Matt,” said Alfred, gripped Matthew's shoulders tight and shaking him lightly.

 

“I don't smoke often. I was just in a mood today. And besides, if Arthur finds out, he'll kill me before the smokes do.”

 

Alfred frowned, “You and Kat seemed alright, but were you fighting?”

 

“Huh? No. We're fine. What does Katerina have to do with this?”

 

“She's your girlfriend. Don't try to deny it. I know that she is. I know you Matt, so please stop hiding, okay?”

 

Matt's mouth went slack before he swallow heavily and he said, “Uh...sure. Yeah. But we worked it out.”

 

Alfred smiled wide and said, “Well good, because she looked worried about you. Michelle was worried about you as well. She told me to go look for you and got a ride home with Kat. I tried to find you but I couldn't.”

 

“Sorry.”

 

Matt looked sort of sick, kind of like he wanted to vomit. Alfred bet he knew why, “You look like barfing. That's what you get for smoking.”

 

“Yeah, sure,” whispered Matt.

 

“Go lay down for the night. It's Saturday tomorrow and you and I can play video games or go see a movie or something. 'Kay?”

 

Matt nodded and turned around. From behind, Alfred grabbed him and drew him into another big hug, smelling his friend's neck. Man, it always smelled so wonderful. Alfred wished he could bottle that scent.

 

“I'm glad that you aren't mad at me. Goodnight Matt.”

 

“Goodnight Al.”

 

#

 

Kat paced on the floor beside Matt's bed. Mathieu sat on a pile of his blankets, knees pulled up to his chin and frowned.

 

“So let me get this straight. You were chased by Ivan's friend Carlos. Then you went out for ice cream with him and then you two , in a bid to get over the guys you have crushes on, decided to go on a date next week.”

 

“Well, yes, but-”

 

Kat waggled her finger in front of his face and said, “I'm not done. Then, you talk to Alfred when you get home and he asks if you and I are dating. Instead of fessing up and admitting to him that you're gay, you tell him that you and are really are dating.”

 

Mathieu winced. That did sound bad.

 

“Technically all I did was agree. I didn't actually say anything.”

 

“It doesn't matter. You lied to him. He's your best friend for crying out loud.”

 

“So are you.”

 

Kat glared and then flopped on her back on the bed and said, “Don't try to change the subject by sucking up.”

 

Mathieu sighed, “Can't you just play along?”

 

“I guess. For now. Though for the record, I really don't want to because I think this is a bad idea.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

Being quiet for a few minutes and playing with a button on her shirt, Kat eventually said, “So you and Carlos? Who does he have a crush on?”

 

“I can't say. I promised.”

 

“Not even to your girlfriend?”

 

Matt tossed a pillow at her face and then got off of the bed, “No. Not even to you. But he is sort of cute.”

 

“He is...In a 'he's-not-Alfred' kind of way?” said Kat, a knowing smile on her face.

 

Matt peeked out his door that he opened a crack. He heard his Papa in the office a few doors down. The man was humming a peppy tune under his breath and Matt was pretty sure that the guy would be dancing around a mannequin, draping fabric on it.

 

“Papa leaves his smokes downstairs. Want to share one? Arthur is at work and Alfred's on his date with Michelle so nobody will catch us.”

 

Grabbing a smoke and his own Bic lighter, the two teens went downstairs and hid in the bushes in the back yard.

 

“Did I ever tell you that this is where he and I met for the first time?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Matt leaned sideways and rested his head on Kat's shoulder, “Why did it have to be this way?”

 

She hugged him with one arm and took the smoke from him, “I don't know. But the longer you go without telling him the truth, the harder it will be.”

 

#

 

Time for school once more and Mathieu was waiting just inside the door to Alfred's house. He watched Alfred, who had a piece of bacon hanging out of his mouth, hop down the hallway and trying to stuff a foot into the leg of some black jeans. Alfred's hair was uncombed and when he stopped moving, Mathieu moved up to shyly smooth the strands back with one hand.

 

Alfred beamed and said, “Thanks. I showered but forgot to brush my hair.”

 

Before he moved his hand away, Mathieu brushed some of the hair behind Alfred's ear and then blushed and looked away. Except that he looked in the dining room, right into Arthur's knowing eyes. Arthur was just sipping tea, not a word.

 

Yet Mathieu knew that the man understood and wasn't as adorably and yet infuriatingly oblivious as his brother.

 

Alfred never missed a beat, jammed his feet into his boots, “Michelle is busy tonight, so do you wanna go do something.”

 

Mathieu shook his head as they stepped outside and headed towards Alfred's car. There was a blue hood with a white star on it. The top of the car was painted in a series of red and silver circles, the middle of which had a blue circle with a white star in it. The doors were red and white and the back was blue. Alfred had done it himself.

 

“I have plans tonight. Sorry.”

 

Alfred nodded, “With Kat, right? Sure thing.”

 

“Have you thought any more about what I said the other day?” asked Mathieu, not answering as to who he was actually going on a date with that night.

 

“Hmmm, about getting an apprenticeship with a mechanic. I dunno. Maybe?”

 

“You really should do it. You're a whizz at fixing cars and your paint job is awesome.”

 

Alfred fanned himself and said, “Compliment me more!”

 

Matt snorted and said, “Your ego doesn't need that.”

 

Pulling into a parking spot, one that nobody else took because it was Alfred's, they got out. Girls nearby all stared at Alfred. Even some guys did. Everybody wanted to be Alfred or be with him.

 

And right then, even if Alfred wasn't his, all of his attention was on Mathieu.

 

#

 

Alfred yawned. He rubbed his eyes. Damn, he was so glad that school was over for another day, finally. It was sooooo boring. The last class of the day for him had been English. Man, he had no idea how Arthur went through an entire English program at University. It was such a snore.

 

Like, really, who cares what some dead guy wrote a million years ago?

 

The only novels that Alfred liked were the ones he hid under his bed. His dirty secret.

 

“Pinkie Pie and the Rockin' Ponypalooza Party!” and “Twilight Sparkle and the Crystal Heart Spell.”

 

They were in his box where he also kept his ponies. He had one of each of the girls and a Princess Celestia. He had his eye on a Nightmare moon that was at Toy'R'Us, Alfred just needed to convince Arthur to give him forty bucks without question. Nobody knew about his collection. Not even Matt.

 

Speaking of Matt, there was his girlfriend.

 

Alfred ran by some people, weaving through the crowd until he got to Katerina. He grinned down at her and said, “Matt finally fessed up to being your girlfriend. You guys are going on a date tonight, right?”

 

Kat shook her head, “Nope. I have dance tonight.”

 

Right as those words came out of Kat's mouth, Alfred saw her pale and slap a hand on her mouth.

 

“I-I mean...uh...sure I am going on a date with him,” she said, not looking at Alfred.

 

Putting a hand on Kat's locker to stop her from opening it, Alfred said, “He told me that he was busy tonight. Who was he too busy to hang out with me for, if not his girlfriend?”

 

She winced and Alfred let her open her locker door. He didn't want to seem like a bully or something. But he still hovered over her and poked her shoulder over and over until she said, “You should really talk to Matt about this.”

 

“About what? Who's he's hanging out with?”

 

Kat nodded and then headed out, “I'm sorry Al. Have a good night.”

 

Was Matt keeping secrets from him? Alfred suddenly felt bad for keeping the ponies a secret from Matt. Maybe Matt knew about it and was keeping a secret from Alfred in revenge?

 

Running to his car and hopping in, Alfred tore out of the parking lot. He drove around all of Kitchener and Waterloo, or at least to all of the spots that he thought Matt might have gone to.

 

It wasn't until he was near an ice cream shop that Matt enjoyed that he saw it. Alfred pulled his car over to the other side of the road and watched.

 

Matt was leaning against the side of a car, Carlos the bastard with both of his arms on either side of Matt. They were talking. Matt didn't look upset. He was actually smiling.

 

Carlos tilted Matt's chin up with a finger and brought his lips down onto Matt's.

 

And Matt let him.

 

He let a guy kiss him.

 

Alfred was furious. He hardly thought. His mind felt all jumbled.

 

He leapt from his car, running across the street, only just avoiding getting hit by two cars. Ignoring the indignant honks that he received.

 

“MATT!” he yelled.

 

Matthew jolted and shoved Carlos away. Even in the dark, in the furthest corner of the lot where the lamplight barely reached, Alfred could still see Matthew's wide dark blue eyes. His friend was silent.

 

“Hey cabron, what the hell do you think you're doing? Can't you see that we're busy here?” said Carlos, moving back near Matthew, despite the fact that he'd been shoved away.

 

“Come on Matt, let's get away from this creep,” said Alfred, grabbed the wrist on Matt's other arm.

 

Matt whispered something, but Alfred didn't hear. Carlos obviously didn't as well because he slung an arm around Matthew.

 

“He wants to be here. With me.”

 

Alfred looked at Matt from the corner of his eye and noticed how stunned and uncomfortable he was. Clearly his shy and meek friend needed to be saved from Carlos. Stupid friend of Ivan.

 

“Just because you're gay, doesn't mean that he wants you all over him. He has a girlfriend.”

 

“No he doesn't. We are on a date. I asked him and he said yes.”

 

Alfred laughed and tugged Matt's wrist again while he said, “He obviously misunderstood. Now get your hands off of him.”

 

“Why don't you ask Matthew then?” said Carlos, stepping back but gesturing to Matt with a flourish of his arm.

 

Alfred clenched his fist and was ready to spit nails at all of these accusations. He just yelled whatever came to his mind first, without thinking.

 

“Ask him what? My friend isn't a fag!”

 

He didn't even realize the hateful word that he'd said until he finally heard Matthew whisper, “Actually he is.”

 

Jaw dropped, Alfred looked over and saw Matthew's eyes glazed over with tears, “Wha-”

 

The world sunk in right then to just him and Matthew. The sound of cars zooming by on the nearby road faded away. Cold surrounded them like a mist as the blood drained from their faces. Alfred's arms and legs felt heavy and he couldn't move, could scarcely breathe.

 

For the first time in their entire friendship, Matthew yelled at him, each word coming louder until his voice was fracturing at the end, “I. SAID. I. AM. A. FAG!”

 

Alfred didn't know what to say or do. Didn't know what he could do. He just turned around and ran back to his car.

 

Then he drove away, using the back of his hand to wipe tears from his eyes.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, please try not to hate Al too much. He feels really bad. Though Matthew could probably use hugs and pancakes right about now.
> 
> Though on an up-note, I was proud of that diner scene. Everything that Alfred and Ivan were talking about were references to events in the cold war. Hopefully not too much fail on my part.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: I'm aware that, in a previous chapter, I mentioned that Alfred played football. I'm really, really not into sports and know nothing about them. I assumed that football season started in spring because that just made sense to me. So I didn't look it up. However I just found out that it starts in fall. SO I changed the sport Alfred plays to be soccer because that starts in spring. I'm SO SORRY for the inconsistency.

**Chapter Seven**

 

Mathieu didn't even feel Carlos gently nudge him to the passenger seat of his car. Didn't even remember the drive back to his home, or whispering directions on how to get there. Didn't remember stumbling inside after Carlos asked if he'd be alright.

 

He didn't even take off his boots, not caring or even thinking of how much his Papa would hate that. He just flopped onto the couch, curled into a ball and began to sob. Mathieu made sure, first, to put a pillow over his head. After all this time, he still hated people to see him cry.

 

After a while, he heard footsteps. Two sets of them. He didn't look up, not wanting anybody to see his tears. He'd kept them in when Carlos had driven him home. Now he wasn't sure if he could stop the waterworks even if he tried.

 

“Mon petit, what is wrong?” asked Francis, hand on Mathieu's shoulder, sounding quite concerned.

 

The other person who had been in the room was Arthur, Mathieu didn't care enough to once again wonder at the true nature of the two men's relationship. Arthur said something about starting a tea.

 

Francis eased Mathieu up to sitting and grabbed a Kleenex, wiping tears away. Mathieu flung himself into his father's arms before the man could finish and cried his heart out. He sobbed and sobbed until no more tears would come. When no more tears came, he sat up and out of his Papa's arms. Arthur pressed a warm cup into his hands.

 

“Please, tell us what happened.”

 

Mathieu shook his head, “I can't.”

 

Because even despite the hurtful thing that Alfred had said to him, he didn't want the guy to get in trouble with Arthur.

 

Francis said, “Why not? Did somebody hurt you?”

 

Mathieu whispered, “Not physically.”

 

“So you were insulted,” said Arthur, sitting on the other side of the room.

 

Not knowing how to respond, Mathieu just drank some tea. It had a small splash of milk and some maple syrup.

 

Before anybody else could ask more questions, a screech of tires was heard outside of Arthur's house. A car door was slammed hard and soon after, the door to the neighbouring house as well.

 

Arthur scowled but softened his expression when looking at Mathieu, “I have to go talk to Alfred. I'll give you time alone with your father.”

 

Arthur slipped from the house quietly.

 

Then Francis said, “Can you tell me now? What is the matter?”

 

Mathieu thought for a moment and then answered, “Will you promise not to tell Arthur?”

 

“Whyever would I tell that-”

 

Not wanting his Papa to play stupid about how he and Arthur truly felt about one another, even if just for a little while, Mathieu narrowed his gaze.

 

Francis sighed and eventually said, “Oui, I promise.”

 

Taking a deep breath, Mathieu finally said, “Alfred found out I was gay. Saw me kissing my date tonight. Called me a fag.”

 

When his father's eyes darkened considerably, Mathieu added, “It sort of slipped from him when he was denying it. He said, “My friend isn't a fag.” But it still hurt.”

 

Francis gave him another hug and said, “Oh Mathieu...”

 

“Then he just went and drove away. I...I...I just...”

 

Francis was quiet for a while, petting Mathieu's hair before saying, “Falling in love with somebody who is straight, or still in the closet is so hard.”

 

Mathieu no longer wished to speak. He didn't think much of what his Papa said about somebody still being in the closet. Clearly he was simply talking about gay relationships in general, since Alfred was obviously super straight.

 

“Now. How about we make you some comfort food?” said his father moving to the kitchen and dragging his son from the couch while he did so.

 

Mathieu slumped down at the table and rested his head atop it. He didn't want to think. All he knew was how deeply he hurt.

 

He barely even tasted the normally delicious maple syrup that his father poured over a stack of fluffy pancakes.

 

#

 

As soon as Arthur came back home after leaving from Francis' house, he was accosted. Alfred was circling him over and over, babbling so fast that Arthur didn't understand a word. Really, Arthur was too concerned about Mathieu to worry about what his younger brother was going on about. Mathieu rarely ever acted in such a way, or at least Arthur hadn't ever seen him do so.

 

It had been unnerving.

 

“Arthur! Are you listening to me? I really need somebody to talk to right now,” said Alfred.

 

Finally, the tone of deep upset in his little brother's voice got to him and Arthur looked over.

 

Alfred's face kept going from looking as if it was about to crumble into tears to furrowed in intense anger and frustration.

 

“You'll have to start over. I didn't quite catch any of that, I was distracted.”

 

Alfred paced in front of Arthur, who sat down in his favourite chair. The boy ran his hands through his hair and then tugged on some of the strands.

 

“I just didn't know. Man I didn't know that Matthew was gay. I thought that he was dating Katerina. And then he lied to me about where he was going to be this evening. Or...I don't know. He may not have lied at all and just didn't tell me his plans. But I found out that he wasn't going on a date with Kat and I drove around to the places that Matt likes. I saw that jerk Carlos kissing him. I thought that Carlos was just taking advantage of Matt, because I've always thought that Matt was straight. So when Carlos and I argued, I said that, “My friend wasn't a fag!”. It just slipped out. I didn't mean it. I mean, Francis is a cool guy and he sleeps with other men.”

 

Alfred took a deep breath and continued before Arthur could properly gather his thoughts, “It's just weird isn't it. I mean, right? Most people aren't gay...right?”

 

Arthur blinked. How did his brother ever get that impression?

 

“No. Being gay is perfectly normal. What made you think otherwise?”

 

“Well, being gay is normal if you're...like...'out-there' like Francis or that one kid in grade ten. Feliks or something. But Matt's a dude. He plays hockey, works out, plays video games and drinks beer. Besides, wouldn't I have noticed if he was gay?,” said Alfred, too distressed to notice that he just admitted that Matthew drinks while underage.

 

“Wouldn't I have noticed?” said Alfred, desperately this time.

 

“Anybody can be gay. There are many incredibly masculine men who are gay. It's how you're born and not something another person can easily discern solely based on your hobbies and appearance. I thought you understood that,” said Arthur, a bit distressed at how his brother was taking this news.

 

What would the lad say when he found out that Arthur was also gay?

 

“I guess...” said Alfred, ceasing his pacing and staring at his feet, “But wouldn't that mean that people would look down on Matt? I mean...guys on the soccer team joke about that kind of thing and mention how gross it is. Some people still think it's wrong.”

 

Arthur furrowed his brows, “Yes, bigots think it's wrong. Nobody whose opinion actually matters would care about the sex-life of another person if it doesn't hurt anybody.”

 

He must have been clutching the arms of his chair really tightly, because Alfred looked over at him and said, “Are you okay bro?”

 

Deep breath, “I am. It is just that I have something to tell you. Sit down.”

 

“Why? I'm fine standing.”

 

“Sit.”

 

Alfred plopped himself down on the end of the couch, right on the edge of the seat.

 

“Look, not everybody who is gay acts like a queen. I know because I, myself, am gay.”

 

Alfred just stared at him, no sounds came out. Just an intermittent blinking.

 

Arthur went and sat beside his brother and smoothed any wrinkles in his own pants before he said, “It's nothing to feel ashamed of in another person. It's just something that you feel, who you are. I don't really know how else to-”

 

Alfred shot from his seat and glared down, “H-how could you? I thought you'd understand what I'm going through.”

 

Gaping, Arthur met his brother’s eyes, only to notice that they'd filled with tears.

 

“Why didn't any of you tell me before now? I thought...no...it doesn't matter,” said Alfred, turning back to the front door.

 

Running after his brother, Arthur angrily said, “Wait! You can't just leave. We aren't done.”

 

Alfred yelled back, “Leave me alone.”

 

And then just left.

 

#

 

Alfred parked his car in the driveway of the house he had driven to and just sat there. He rested his head on the steering wheel and let the tears fall. He didn't know what to think. All he knew was that he probably hadn't reacted very well and was so confused. There was also a lot of hurt that the two people that he was closest to hadn't told him something so important before now.

 

A low tapping at the car window on his side made him look over. There was Kiku, brown eyes unfathomable as usual, cheeks tinged in red from the cold night air.

 

Alfred opened the door as soon as Kiku had moved far enough away in order to not be knocked over. Then he grabbed his friend's shoulders and shook him, “Are you straight?”

 

“Yes, I am. Why do you ask?” said Kiku, stepping away from his friend's hands.

 

“Thank you. I just need somebody to talk to right now who might understand. Can I stay here tonight?”

 

“I think that will be alright. My parents are gone for the night anyway.”

 

Alfred followed without another word. His head hurt, his heart hurt and he just wanted to...he didn't even know. As soon as he got into Kiku's room, he went to the bed and crawled into it. He curled up under the blankets and jammed the pillow over his head.

 

“Matthew is gay,” he muttered after a long while.

 

“Yes, so?” said Kiku, sounding confused.

 

Peeking out at his friend from under the fluffy white fortress of protection that he'd made, Alfred said, “Why do you say that as if you knew?”

 

Kiku paused in the middle of taking a drink of some kind of hot beverage, probably tea, and said, “Because he's a member of the rainbow club.”

 

“Yeah, that's like, a club where they all wear rainbow stickers and talk about art and happy things...like rainbows.”

 

“Seriously...?” said Kiku, blinking incredulously.

 

Alfred shrugged, “What? Isn't that what it is?”

 

“It's the gay-straight alliance club.”

 

“Oh,” said Alfred, going back to hiding and then blurted, “Well, Arthur's also gay.”

 

“That I didn't know, but alright, so?”  
  


“So shouldn't that be weird?”

 

“Why?”

 

“It just is. I should have been able to tell. I dunno. It feels so out of nowhere.”

 

Kiku started up a video game on the TV in his room and began to play the latest in the Elder Scrolls series. Alfred peeked out to watch.

 

“You know. It isn't always obvious who is gay and who is straight,” said Kiku, managing to sound as if he was imparting a two thousand year old nugget of wisdom as he hacked a giant spider with a sword.

 

“Arthur said something like that too,” whined Alfred.

 

Kiku fought through more of a cave in silence. After nearly fifteen minutes, his friend said, “Why does it bother you so much?”

 

“I thought they'd tell me.”

 

“Maybe they weren't ready to.”

 

Alfred pouted.

 

Then Alfred said, “So...Matt's your friend too and you don't care that he's gay?”

 

“No, why would I?”

 

A half hour went by with nothing but the sound of video game battles and pouting sighs to break the silence. Kiku got ready for bed in full pyjamas while Alfred got out of his jeans and slept in a shirt and boxers. He scooted over on the queen-sized bed. Kiku didn't bother to try to kick him out. Alfred would always climb back in at some point at night anyway.

 

As soon as Kiku's body was on the bed and almost under the covers, Alfred blurted, “I'm not gay!”

 

“Alright.”

 

“I'm not.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“I like boobs. They're awesome,” said Alfred, pouting again.

 

Kiku nodded solemnly, “I agree.”

 

“So what if I like smelling Matt?”

 

“I- huh?”

 

“That doesn't make me gay. Because I like girls,” said Alfred, nodding to himself.

 

Kiku, who was laying on the very edge of the bed, as he usually did whenever Alfred tried to share his bed, said, “I understand that you like girls. Okay?”

 

“'Kay!” said Alfred, closing his eyes, trying to ignore the pain in his head.

 

“So, what do you think about guys?”

 

“Whaddaya mean?”

 

“Do you find them attractive?” said Kiku, sounding stiff and uncomfortable.

 

“Never really thought about it. Why would I when there are pretty and soft girls around. And...y'know...stuff.”

 

“So you've never thought about a guy that way?” said Kiku.

 

“What way?” asked Alfred, holding the blanket up to his nose.

 

“Sexually.”

 

“No.”

 

“So what about Matt?”

 

Alfred thought for a minute and then said, “He probably has thought about guys that way, I guess.”

 

“Well, yes. But what I meant was: Have you thought that way about Matt?”

 

“I dunno. No. I dunno.”

 

“You either know or you don't Alfred.”

 

But he didn't. He really didn't. Alfred bit the inside of his cheek as he thought really hard.

 

“I think about him all the time. I wanna spend more time with him than Michelle. I like sharing a bed with him but like...cuddling up close. He smells incredible and is so nice and warm and gives awesome hugs. His hair is also really soft and I like touching it. But I've seen him naked before and while he's a good looking guy didn't wanna jump his bones.”

 

“You have known him since you were very little though. Maybe you are just used to his nudity. Think about this: What would you do if a guy kissed you?”

 

“Depends on who. A guy from school. Gross. I'd push them away. That means I'm straight.”

 

“What if Captain America kissed you?” said Kiku, with a smirk.

 

“Well of course I'd let him, duh. I'd let him do anything to me. But any dude would be the same way because he's Captain-frickin'-America.”

 

“That's not true.”

 

Alfred rolled his eyes, “I know you think he's awesome too. Don't deny it.”

 

“He is a cool super hero. I admit that. But I wouldn't let him kiss me or do anything otherwise. I'm not attracted to men.”

 

“Oh,” said Alfred quietly and then said a significantly louder, “OH!”

 

“Well maybe you should think about that.”

 

And then Kiku rolled to his side and closed his eyes.

 

His friend's breathing slowed down and eventually into a pattern of sleep. But Alfred couldn't fall asleep. His thoughts were scattered. They jumped from being surprised about finding out that Matthew and Arthur were both gay. He thought about how furious he'd been when he saw Carlos kiss Matt. Why?

 

Sure Carlos was a jerk-face. But it was mostly because he was friends with Ivan.

 

And Alfred hated Ivan because he was always all over...Matt.

 

...Oh shit...

 

#

 

Mathieu peeled his body up from his bed. His alarm had rang several times that morning before he'd hurled the device across the room, shattering it against a wall. His father hadn't tried to get him out of bed and Matt was glad.

 

He refused to go to school. No way. Not happening.

 

He never wanted to go again.

 

And he wanted to move. Maybe back to Quebec. Or Switzerland.

 

Somewhere that he'd never have to see Alfred's gorgeous, name calling face again.

 

Beside him, his cell-phone buzzed for the tenth time.

 

Kat.

 

[Kat: Where R U?]

 

[Kat: Why aren't u here?]

 

[Kat: Are u ok?]

 

[Kat: Ivan said that he's mad at Alfred. Why?]

 

[Kat: This is srsly freaking me out. U never skip.]

 

[Kat: Chemistry is boring w/o u.]

 

[Kat: Just saw Alfred and he looks like shit. Was he drunk lst night or high? His eyes r all red 'n' stuff.]

 

[Kat: R U mad at me?]

 

[Kat: I wasn't thinking and told him u and I weren't on a date yesterday. I was supposed 2 tell him we were right? I'm sry.]

 

[Kat: Plz talk 2 me...]

 

Mathieu finally decided that ignoring his other best friend was a bad thing. She would worry herself sick.

 

[Matt: Not mad at u...]

 

[Kat: Why aren't u here then?]

 

[Matt: Al hates me.]

 

[Kat:...]

 

[Kat: I don't think he can hate u.]

 

[Matt: He saw me kiss Carlos last night.]

 

[Kat: OMG, but...oh yeah, Al hates Carlos right?]

 

[Matt:...]

 

[Kat: Sooo is that y u think he hates u?]

 

[Matt: He told Carlos, “My friend isn't a fag.”]

 

[Kat: WHAT!?]

 

[Matt: I don't think he meant it in a super bad way...]

 

[Kat: It's still a shitty thing to say.]

 

[Matt: I know.]

 

[Kat: Did he apologize?]

 

[Matt: No, he just ran to his car 'n' drove away. Haven't seen him since. Hasn't txted me either.]

 

[Kat: I just hit him with my textbook while I passed him in the hall. Does that help?]

 

[Matt:...]

 

[Matt: A bit.]

 

[Kat: Want me to come over after school?]

 

[Matt: I think I need to be alone today, k?]

 

 

Mathieu looked at the time on his phone and noticed that it was one pm. He really hoped that Kat would listen to him. Her lack of response was likely an indication that she had no intention of doing such a thing. He still didn't want to wake up. The curtains were slid closed and hardly any light could get in. He curled up further into his blankets and sighed.

 

Maybe he'd just sleep some more.

 

#

 

Kat lay down beside Matt, who was buried under his blanket, a pillow over his head. Mathieu knew that she was there because he could smell her perfume. Vanilla.

 

Normally Matt preferred the musky and deep scent of a man's cologne. That night the soft scent of her body mist was comforting. He was glad that Katerina had ignored Mathieu's request for alone time.

 

“I'm so sorry that happened. You deserve so much more,” said Kat, prying the pillow off of Mathieu's head, despite his whine of protest.

 

“No, because I should have told him instead of letting him find out that way.”

 

“You don't deserve anybody saying something like that to you.”

 

Katerina tugged the covers down enough so that Matt couldn't hide and then rested her head on Matt's chest.

 

Used to Kat being of the cuddly sort, and really needing the comfort himself, Matt didn't mind the touch. It made him feel better. He reached up and played with a strand of her pale hair.

 

“What if he never talks to me again?”

 

“I don't think that's possible.”

 

“But what if it's not the same ever again. What if it's weird or...”

 

“That won't happen Matt,” said Kat, lifting her head up and looking right into his eyes, “But even on the off chance that he does do that, you'll always have me.”

 

“That's true and-” said Mathieu. Right before he was cut off.

 

Stopped from speaking further by Katerina's soft lips on his own.

 

It wasn't as bad as he'd thought it would be, kissing a woman. Her lips were lightly glossed with what tasted like cherry lip balm. They were puffier than a guy's would be, so very obviously belonging to a woman.

 

So torn up about what happened with Alfred, and out of it from all of the sleep he'd been having, he kissed back, just for a moment.

 

However as soon as his eyes drifted close and he reached for her chest, he was slammed back into reality. Obviously Mathieu knew that Kat had breasts, but his instincts expected for the chest of the person he kissed to be flat.

 

Like a man.

 

He pulled back, “Kat...I...”

 

Kat's eyes widened in a dramatic way that would have been comical had the situation been not so serious.

 

“I'm so stupid. Why did I do that?” she cried, sobbing and tears already leaking from the corners of both eyes.

 

“No Kat, you aren't stupid. You just...well, why did you do that? I mean not that it was bad or anything. It was a pretty good kiss.”

 

“You wouldn't know,” teased Kat, still sniffling, “You've only been kissed by Carlos.”

 

Katerina sat up on and looked away.

 

“Hey, there was Ned at summer camp.”

 

“You were thirteen, doesn't count.”

 

“Sure it does. We used tongues and everything,” retorted Matt, blushing as he realized that he sounded like a child, the way he said that, “Why did you kiss me Kat?”

 

“Can we just forget that happened?”

 

“Kat.”

 

“Please, it was really stupid.”

 

And then it clicked.

 

The ways that she looked at him, how she was always there for him, always cuddling. Who was the naive one now? Certainly not her.

 

Putting a hand on her shoulder, Mathieu said, “I wish I could feel the same. I wish that I wasn't gay sometimes and could be with you. Not just because being straight or even just bi-sexual would be easier but because you're one of my best friends. But just like you said about me, I feel the same in that you deserve so much better than somebody being with you solely for how easy it is.”

 

Kat sniffed and said, “I know. It's just hard to get over a crush.”

 

Matt groaned, “Yeah, I know. But Kat...? I haven't been leading you on or anything have I? I mean, we cuddle on the bed sometimes and hug and touch a lot. Maybe we shouldn't do that if it hurts you.”

 

“No!” said Kat really fast and then shook her head, “It's not that bad. It's not like I'm hopelessly in love with you. Sure I love you, a good part of which is as a friend, and I'd like to date you. I am still looking for somebody else to date. I'm not saving myself for you or anything. I know that waiting for you is hopeless.”

 

“Just like it is with me and Al,” said Mathieu, his turn to get watery eyes.

 

“Oh, I didn't mean that.”

 

“But it is.”

 

Both of them fell into a hug at that point, becoming a sobbing mess of tears and snot.

 

Kat eventually pulled away and wiped at her face with a tissue, “We're both kind of pathetic.”

 

“A bit, maybe. Though seriously,” Mat sniffed, “Will you be okay? I do love you, even if it isn't in the way that you want.”

 

“Really, don't worry. I'll be alright.”

 

Worry-wart Matt was about to ask one more time, just to be sure, when he heard a ruckus from outside the house. It sounded as if it were coming from the back yard. His Papa and...Alfred. Were they yelling at each other?

 

#

 

“Please let me in. I need to see Matt,” said Alfred, about to get onto his knees.

 

He was standing on the first step at the front of the house, away from Francis because- Holy Shit! Alfred had never been scared of the man before, since Matt's dad was so laid back and generally awesome.

 

Right then, however, Francis' eyes blazed fire and his fists clenched.

 

“Non! Not when you've hurt mon petit ange with such a terrible word.”

 

“B-but! I just need to see him. How can I apologize if I can't see him?”

 

Francis stepped back and slammed the door shut once more, snicking the lock shut right after.

 

Fine. If he was going to be like that, Alfred would just go about this in a different way. He really had to see Matt.

 

Going into commando-mode, Alfred got to his knees. He knew that he wouldn't be seen, since it was winter and night had fallen early. He'd gone to a store first for something right after school, so now it was dark.

 

He crawled by the windows in the living room and the kitchen and when into the backyard. Then, he grabbed a hold of the wooden trellis. It wasn't very sturdy, but the climb to Mattie's window wasn't very high. Just one storey.

 

Besides, if he fell, there were piles of snow to break his fall. Snow was soft, right?

 

Gulping, he started his climb. He was halfway up when Francis came out.

 

“Hey! Non! I told you NON!”

 

That was when Francis ran under him and started to swat him with a broom. Alfred began to yell, “HEY STOP IT! You want me to die?”

 

He tried to climb faster but the trellis was too unstable to be speedy. The backs of his legs were aching as Francis hit him with a broom over and over.

 

Then, Arthur walked over and looked at him, “For God's sake! What the hell is going on here? Put the bloody broom down frog.”

 

“No, I told you what he said to Mathieu. I don't want him here.”

 

“Yes, he told me too. Should he have the chance to do...whatever this is? What the hell are you doing up there anyway?”

 

“I'm-” the trellis swayed slightly and Alfred's eyes widened, “Trying to climb up to see Matt, since Francis won't let me inside.”

 

“Get down!” said Francis and Arthur at once.

 

Just as Francis went for the broom again, Arthur tried snatching it away. Alfred took advantage of the men being distracted and climbed all the way up. The window opened up just in time for Alfred to get part way inside, legs flailing unheroically behind him. The trellis fell right then, a plume of powdery snow puffing up over Francis and Arthur as it did.

 

Matthew's bed was right under the window and Alfred crawled onto it. He took off his shoes right away, since he knew that his friend hated shoes on his bed. Mathieu was at the very edge of the bed, away from Alfred, and not looking at him. Alfred did wonder why it smelled like vanilla perfume, but he didn't think too much about that. Kat had probably been around.

 

Likely to comfort Matt after the horrible way Alfred had acted.

 

“You weren't at school,” said Alfred.

 

God, keen observation. Of course he wasn't there. Matt always rode to school with him so Alfred, of all people, would know that he wasn't around.

 

“Um, I have a bump on my head from where Katerina smacked me with her chemistry text. It still hurts. That textbook is damn big.”

 

Matthew just sat there. Alfred shifted closer.

 

“I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that word around you. I just didn't know you were gay.”

 

“And that makes it alright? Because you didn't know?” whispered Matt, shifting further way.

 

“No. It just slipped out. I didn't mean it.”

 

“Okay, sure.”

 

“I just...why didn't you tell me? About being gay.”

 

Matt was silent again, shuffling over on the bed again.

 

“Please talk to me. I thought we could tell each other anything. You're my best friend.”

 

Nothing.

 

Alfred went closer. Matt had no room to shift over further.

 

“Please say something. I'm so sorry. Here, I even bought you some maple candies.”

 

After putting the small box of sweets on Mathieu's lap, Alfred got up. He couldn't see his friend's face so he went to stand in front of Matt and touched his cheek gently to turn it towards him. There was a wetness on Matthew's cheeks.

 

“Oh please don't cry,” sobbed Alfred, drawing Matt into his arms.

 

Though he was stiff at first, Matt eventually softened and placed a hand on Alfred's chest. It wasn't a hug, but Matt also didn't try to push him away.

 

“I don't care that you're gay. It just weirded me out because I thought that you were too guy-like to be gay but I know better. I'd just never thought about it, y'know? It didn't occur to me that guys could be gay and not be super flaming like that Feliks kid. But now I have and it's okay with me and can I try something?” blabbered Alfred into Matt's neck.

 

Always able to discern his every word with ease, Matt warily said, “Try what?”

 

“This.”

 

And he lifted his head from that wonderful smelling neck so that he could press his lips to Matt's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that Alfred's more fluid sexuality makes sense. Alfred had always struck me as the kind of guy who, while somewhat oblivious, will just give something his all once an idea hits him. He pretty much goes with the flow.
> 
>  
> 
> When I thought of that scene with Francis and the broom I just couldn't stop giggling.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another warning: Homophobia in this chapter, near the end.

**Chapter Eight**

 

Lips that were salty and sweet at the same time pressed hesitantly against his own. It was like a dream come true, after what seemed like a lifetime of yearning. Mathieu froze, not knowing how to react. His hand curled into Alfred's t-shirt and his mouth opened in shock. Alfred pulled apart then and smiled.

 

Reaching up, Mathieu touched his mouth.

 

“Did you just kiss me?”

 

Alfred grinned wider, “Yep. Turns out, I do like some guys.”

 

“What?” said Mathieu, voice high like a girl.

 

“I'm willing to be kissed by Captain America and you. You should feel special. You're on par with a super hero.”

 

“...huh?”

 

“I talked to Kiku last night and he helped me see that I may be a bit, y'know, not straight. I dunno if I'm gay, because guys as a whole don't do much for me. But I didn't get any sleep last night because all I could think about was if I'd be okay if you and I kissed.”

 

“Wow. That was...wow,” whispered Matt, knowing that he should still be upset at Alfred and other...things...and whatever happened last night.

 

He didn't know. Didn't remember anything. All that ran through his mind was: Alfred had just kissed him. Alfred had just kissed him. Alfred had just kissed him.

 

Blushing furiously and suddenly realizing his very prominent problem in his sweatpants, he pushed Alfred aside. Going as fast as he could, which was faster than Alfred, he went into the bathroom across the hall and locked the door.

 

Oh geez. He hadn't been so hard in his whole entire life.

 

There was a knocking on the door, “Matt? Did I do something wrong? Am I a bad kisser? The girls I've kissed seemed to like it? Do guys kiss differently? I don't know how to kiss other dudes.”

 

“Stop trying to pound a hole through the bathroom door,” said Francis, who sounded upset, hopefully not at Mathieu.

 

“I think there's something wrong. I just need to talk to him. Hey stop tugging me dammit. OW! Stop slapping my arm!” said Alfred, getting louder and louder as he spoke.

 

As Alfred complained, Francis was yelling words in french. Mostly about how much he wanted Alfred out of his house for hurting his little boy. Mathieu was fairly certain that he heard Arthur grumbling something in the background but couldn't tell what the man was saying.

 

The sudden vision of his papa slapping Alfred was just too funny and Mathieu began to giggle. Soon he was outright howling in laughter. Not only at that, but just everything that had happened. It was all too much. He sat on the side of the tub. One hand on his chest, and the other on the wall, to keep himself from falling.

 

All the noise from the other side of the door stopped and it was Francis who first broke the silence, “Mathieu? Are you alright?”

 

At that point, Matt had forgotten all about his erection and focused on wiping tears of laughter from his cheeks, “Oui! Je suis bon.”

 

He opened the door, finally feeling as if he could deal with what was happening, and gave a wobbly smile. Alfred pounced right away, “I messed everything up, didn't I? Was it the kiss?”

 

The angry glare in Francis' eyes faded and his face relaxed, “So you finally kissed. About time. I've seen the way that you look at each other.”

 

Alfred gaped, “Wait...? Huh? But I didn't even know how I felt until last night.”

 

Just as his father's eyebrows were about to waggle, Mathieu got right up into the man's face and said, “Why don't you and Arthur go look at each other in that way, if you know what I mean?”

 

Turning red, Arthur said, “I have no idea what you're talking about.”

 

Then, Arthur grabbed Francis by the wrist and stormed away.

 

“What just happened there?” said Alfred, giving his confused expression, which sort of just made him look as if he were sad instead.

 

“Don't worry about it. And I was fine with the kiss,” said Mathieu watching the ground as he walked back to his room.

 

“So why'd you run?” said Alfred, closing the door behind himself and locking it.

 

“I had a problem.”

 

Alfred was right there, worried again, “What was it? Do you need to see a doctor?”

 

“I got a _mumblemumble_ ,” said Mathieu, curling up on himself back on the bed.

 

Why did he have to explain this?

 

“A what...OH! You got hard?” asked Alfred.

 

“Well, yeah. That tends to happen when you kiss somebody you are attracted to.”

 

“Oh.”

 

Alfred slumped to his knees and put his head in Matt's lap. The look of sorrow on his face was so heartbreaking that Mathieu ran his hands through Alfred's hair and asked, “What's wrong with that?”

 

“I didn't get hard. But I don't want you to kiss other guys.”

 

“Though you didn't have a problem when you thought I was dating Katerina?”

 

Alfred shrugged, “Not really. She's a girl. It's different.”

 

Ooookay. Mathieu supposed that he understood that.

 

“Did you like kissing me?”

 

Alfred popped up and nodded really fast. If he had a tail, it would have been wagging, “So much. It was nice.”

 

“Just not arousing?”

 

“Well not just with that little peck. Maybe if we kissed in a sexier way? Like I do with Michelle.”

 

Mathieu cringed, “Can we not talk about your ex-girlfriend right now?”

 

Then it was Alfred's turn to wince.

 

“She is your ex now, right? Since you are kissing me,” demanded Mathieu, voice raising again and Alfred buried his head in Matt's lap.

 

“Not yet. I just wanted to see you first.”

 

“And determine what, exactly? I don't turn you on. What more is there to 'see'?”

 

“I just need to try harder!” said Alfred suddenly, launching himself onto Mathieu, pinning him to the bed.

 

Fully under Alfred, Mathieu couldn't help but whimper just before those lips pressed to his own. The soft slip of their mouths was still oh so very gentle, wonderful. All thoughts of Michelle flew from him as a tongue probed along the seam of his mouth. He opened, welcoming and a warmth spread though his body.

 

Alfred's hand stroked over his body with the backs of his fingers, just feather-light touches. Their hips met and Mathieu grew more and more hot, cock hardening. Since Alfred was in jeans, Mathieu couldn't tell if his friend was responding. Yet before he could really think more about that, Alfred's hand brushed over one of his hip-bones.

 

Each caress was reverent and tender and when they parted, finally, they were gasping for breath.

 

“That was intense,” whispered Alfred into Matt's ear, making a shiver go down his spine.

 

“So hot,” gasped Mathieu, fingers clawing into Alfred's t-shirt.

 

“Not for me,” said Alfred with utter calmness.

 

Just as Mathieu felt his erection deflate at those words, Alfred kissed along Matt's jaw. Fingers slipped onto the bare skin under Matt's t-shirt.

 

“I'm hard as nails but not because I'm attracted to you,” said Alfred again.

 

Matt squirmed away with a deep frown, protesting. Alfred just snuggled up behind Matt and slowly rolled his hips forward, right onto the cheeks of his ass. Oh. There was the hardness.

 

“Then w-what is this? I don't want to be just some experiment for you. I lo-” started Mathieu and then clamped his hand over his mouth to stop more words from coming out.

 

#

 

When Alfred heard that almost confession burst from his friend's mouth, he groaned and felt his dick throb.

 

Alfred had never really thought of sex and touching as emotional before.

 

No way was Alfred a virgin. Nope. He'd had sex with girlfriends before. It was always a fumbling of removing jeans and sliding on condoms. Sloppy half-kisses. Alfred would be hard just from looking at their bodies. He enjoyed touching them because they were soft, cute and sexy.

 

Oh and also, come on, boobs.

 

The sex would be fast but he'd pleasure them afterwards of course. He wasn't an ass after all. That was what you did when a girl let you have sex with her. You make sure they enjoy the experience as much, if not more, than you did. It was arousing but...meh on an emotional scale.

 

That wasn't the case here with Matt. He was hard because of every whimper from Matt's mouth. The hard planes of Matt's chest were nice, sure, but that wasn't what did it for him. No, it was that feelings that poured through their kiss. It was knowing that his most beloved friend was feeling pleasure because of him. And he felt so connected to this other guy that they might as well have been one person. Alfred just wanted to sink down, melted into Matthew.

 

“It's okay,” said Alfred, pulling the hand away from Matt's mouth.

 

“What?” said Matthew, breath hitching when Alfred sucked on his neck.

 

“I like you. A lot. This isn't an experiment. Not now. Maybe the first kiss was, I guess. That was mostly just me getting the courage to do what I've wanted badly to do forever. I just never knew it. I never knew it was an option; kissing you and touching you like this. But I've always liked you. I just never knew it could be in this way.”

 

Alfred would have said more but found Matthew turning in his arms and press lips against his own.

 

“Al?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Shut up and kiss me again.”

 

He grinned wide, “'Kay!”

 

#

 

Both of them didn't do more than make out that night. Soft and sweet. Sure, Alfred had been hard. But he didn't think they were ready for sex yet. Instead, they'd fallen asleep, hand in hand.

 

When he'd gone downstairs that morning, Matt was still fast asleep and snoring lightly, so cute. He went into the kitchen only to see a horrifying sight.

 

Arthur was seated on the edge of the marble counter, legs around Francis' waist. Their lips were locked and their hands were in each other's pants. He could see the top of Francis' ass. Every blond hair on it.

 

“OH GOD!!!” yelled Alfred, stumbling from the room and leaning against the wall just outside of it, scrubbing at his eyes, “Make the image go away. Make the image go away.”

 

He needed brain bleach.

 

“What the hell is your problem boy? You really do hate that I'm gay don't you?” said Arthur, stomping out to stand in front of Alfred.

 

At least Alfred was pretty sure that Arthur was in front of him. He didn't want to risk opening his eyes.

 

“No. Not really. I was surprised about it. But I don't care. I'm...something myself, something not entirely straight. I like Matt so it'd be dumb of me to care if you're gay,” said Alfred, reaching into his pocket for what he'd bought for Arthur yesterday.

 

He held out the 'Beatles' key chain in the direction that he thought his older brother was in, “An apology key chain. I'm sorry for acting the way that I did. I love you no matter who you have sex with. But in the future, if you can avoid letting me see Francis' butt, that'd be great.”

 

Draping an arm over his eyes, he tried to stumble back to the stairs only for Arthur to say, “He doesn't still have his bloody pants down. Get over here and eat some damned breakfast for crying out loud.”

 

Alfred opened his eyes cautiously. Since Arthur was still holding onto the gift, looking down at it fondly, Alfred assumed it was liked and appreciated.

 

“Do you forgive me?” asked Alfred, needing to be sure.

 

“Yes. I do.”

 

“Okay. Though if you're together with Francis, that kind of makes Matt my brother or something and it makes it kind of weird that I like him the way I do. But whatever.”

 

Arthur grit his teeth before shouting, “Well it isn't as though I'm marrying him or anything.”

 

Deciding it was a good time to tease, Alfred said, “Why not? You aren't getting any younger, old man.”

 

Francis was suddenly in Alfred's face, looking even more upset than yesterday if that was even possible. There was a snarl on that normally smirking face. The look alone was enough to make Alfred look down at himself to make sure that he hadn't burst into flames.

 

“Get out of my house!”

 

Bringing an apple to his lips, Alfred looked over, confused, “Huh? Why? I thought you were over the thing with me and Matt.”

 

“I am,” growled Francis, “But you called Arthur old, and he is younger than me. So you just called me old. Get out.”

 

Alfred slumped his shoulders and said, “But I wanted to bring Matt breakfast in bed. He'll be super sad if he wakes up and I'm not there even though it's Saturday. Man, you used to be cool. But for the past twenty four hours all you've been doing is hitting me with brooms, slapping me and yelling at meeeee.”

 

“Very well. You may stay. However watch your mouth from now on s'il vous plaît.”

 

“Will do!”

 

After some still awkward conversation and ten minutes later, Alfred opened Matt's cracked open door with one of his hips. He had a tray heaped with meats, pancakes and juice. Turns out that Francis had already been making breakfast so he hadn't had to wait too long at all. Arthur had tried to foist tea on him, but Alfred had declined. Matt preferred juice in the morning, or coffee. But Francis said they were too young for coffee. At seventeen.

 

Didn't they know that he and Matt had been sneaking coffee since they were thirteen?

 

Putting the tray on the desk that was beside the bed, Alfred bounced on the bed beside Matt.

 

“Wake up wake up wake up. It's MORNING.”

 

In a bout of strength that shouldn't have surprised him, but did, Alfred was pinned to the bed, Matt snuggling into his body.

 

Matt mumbled, breathing morning breath all over him, “More sleep. No wakey.”

 

“Dude, your breath reeks and I have food. Pancakes. So many pancakes.”

 

“And syrup?”

 

“Duh.”

 

“Is it warm?”

 

“Yes. I'd like to not be wearing the syrup on my head if it's cold, thanks.”

 

Matthew nuzzled into Alfred's neck and the soft warmth of it made him want to reconsider breakfast. Maybe laying in bed all day and not moving would be a better idea.

 

“I'm not that bad in the mornings.”

 

“You're a monster, but it's okay. I still like you.”

 

“So you weren't drunk or high last night,” asked Matt, making Alfred shiver at the feel of those plush lips move against the skin of his neck.

 

“Drunk, no. And dude, I only got high that one time. Never again. Not after I saw the ghost of Dora the explorer chase after me.”

 

Matthew giggled and Alfred kissed his cheek in response. Man, that giggle. So cute.

 

“I keep trying to tell you that you don't usually hallucinate from pot, and especially not from one toke. I'm pretty sure that somebody was messing with you.”

 

“Nope, not doing drugs anymore. Stop with the peer pressure,” said Alfred, nipping Matt's ear.

 

“Okay,” breathed Matthew, “I'd get up to eat but I have a bit of a problem.”

 

“What-” Alfred looked down into the blanket and saw that Matt's sweats were tented, “Oh. Wanna jerk off together?”

 

“Romantic.”

 

“You know what I mean. Just, you've never done it around me. I want to see you do it. Especially since we're doing this kind of thing now.”

 

Pulling the covers off and to around their knees, Alfred watched Matt hesitantly pull down his pants. His dick was hard, slender, circumcised and a normal length. It was weird how, that didn't arouse him, didn't make him hot at all. Until he met Matthew's deep blue eyes and saw that sweet smile. Then it was all that he could do to keep from groaning out in pleasure.

 

He pulled down his own pants and shifted close, enough so that the tips of their dicks were just touching. Alfred had grown hard as well as he looked between Matt's face and his dick. It was Matt, he was close to the one he loved. He swooped in and claimed Matt's lips in a deep kiss, twirling their tongues.

 

As he sped up the pace on his own stroking, he saw Matt stop and reach out a tentative hand.

 

“Can I? Y-you don't have to do it too. To me that is. But I've dreamed of touching you since the day you first showed me porn.”

 

Taking Matt's wrist, he placed that so smooth hand over his cock.

 

Bliss. As he was stroked, almost masterfully by Matt's hand. He dropped his head onto the pillow and moaned, “You're so good.”

 

“I've had a lot of practice with my own.”

 

Alfred's own hand shook as he reached to return the favour, so nervous. As soon as his hand wrapped around Matt, his friend jumped and cried out.

 

“Did I hurt you?” asked Alfred, pressing worried kisses over Matt's cheeks, yanking his hand away from the cock it held.

 

“No, no,” said Matt, “I've just never had anybody else touch down there before.”

 

Alfred blinked, “You and Ivan or Carlos...never...”

 

Matt shook his head, “That was my first date with Carlos. And Ivan has always given me the creeps. I've never been with anybody before. That's me...seventeen year old virgin.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yeah, isn't it sad?”

 

Alfred kissed his cheek, then the tip of his nose before he said, “No. I like it. Then you won't know how bad of a job I'll be doing, since I don't know how to be with a guy.”

 

After he said that, he went back to oh so slowly stroke down Matt's length as he would start with himself. Matt hissed and moaned, “You seem to be doing a pretty good job right now.”

 

Even as Matt writhed on the bed, uttering a quiet litany of adorations, the stroking of Alfred's own dick never stopped.

 

“Matt,” groaned Alfred as he felt Matt release into his hand.

 

His own climax was triggered and he buried his head into a pillow to muffle his cries as he let go.

 

When he came back around to reality, one that was boneless and so utterly satiated, he saw that Matt had begun to wipe them both off.

 

“There is no way that a straight man could enjoy a hand job that much,” whispered Matthew.

 

“Fine then. I'm not gay, I'm Matt-sexual,” said Alfred, flashing a grin.

 

“What about Captain America?”

 

Alfred paused to think before coming up with a brilliant idea, “I'm CaptiMattAmerisexual.”

 

“That doesn't even make sense. Maybe you're just bi?”

 

“Maybe I don't care about labels?” whined Alfred, bored of the topic, “You're my best friend and now my lover even though we haven't gone all the way. That's what matters to me.”

 

Matt got the tray of food and dug in, seeming to be starved, “So what about Michelle?”

 

Alfred grabbed two slices of bacon and jammed them into his mouth, “I gotta break it off with her, huh?”

 

“Yeah, or I'll break it off with you. I don't share.”

 

“Ooo, Matt is possessive is he?”

 

Matt kissed Alfred, and then shoved a big bite of pancakes into his mouth, “Uh-huh, a bit.”

 

Alfred kissed his friend between bites, hardly able to keep his hands to himself.

 

“I promise that I will break up with her. I need to do it in person though, she's too nice for me to do this over e-mail. God though wouldn't that be so much easier? Man, or over text or something. Maybe I should-”

 

“No,” said Matt before that thought could progress further.

 

“Fine, yeah okay. Can you be there with me?” begged Alfred, finishing the last bite of food.

 

“I can be nearby, but you really need to do this by yourself.”

 

“Later.”

 

“Today.”

 

“Tomorrow.”

 

“Today.”

 

“Fine, can you hand me my phone?” said Alfred, hiding his head in the covers.

 

“So that you can ask her to meet you somewhere?” asked Matthew, voice dripping with scepticism because the guy knew his tricks.

 

“...Fine.”

 

#

 

Mathieu winced as he sat across the restaurant. They'd arrived at the diner first and Mathieu wanted to stay hidden, but close enough to provide moral support. He thanked every God in existence that he was so adept at remaining unseen. Really, he wished he'd let Alfred break up with the girl over the phone.

 

Michelle was a sweetheart, until you broke up with her, it seemed. She'd been berating Alfred for close to an hour when he'd broken up with her.

 

Now granted, Alfred had started the conversation by saying, “Baby, you're a cutie, but it's over.”

 

Maybe Mathieu should have written down what Alfred needed to say. Made cue cards and flashed them to him. Michelle had grown more and more furious when she'd found out that Alfred had cheated on her. He'd admitted who it was and Mathieu had nearly hidden under his table. When a waiter had come over to see if he needed anything else, he'd shooed that man away.

 

With how upset Michelle was getting, Mathieu was surprised that she hadn't slapped Alfred.

 

Then a sharp crack of skin hitting skin echoed through the restaurant.

 

Never mind, there was the slap.

 

As Michelle stormed out of the diner, she nearly passed Mathieu by without noticing him. Just as he was about to breath a sigh of relief, Michelle grabbed a glass of ice water off of the tray of a passing waiter. She then dumped the entire large glass over Mathieu's head.

 

“I always thought that you were a decent person Matt. I guess I was wrong,” said the jilted female, eyes glittering with unshod tears.

 

Once she was gone, Mathieu slunk to the booth that Alfred was in, beside his friend. He ordered them both a plate of pie and ice cream, partially because they needed the comfort food, and partially to make up to the restaurant for how much of a din they'd made.

 

Matt wrapped an arm around Al's shoulders and let the other guy lean against him. Al was pouting and stuffing his face full of food.

 

“I messed that up. I didn't mean to sound so mean. Why do I always say and do things like that?”

 

“It's just who you are. You're Alfred Jones, guy who goes on and on about how great he is, with an ego the size of a country. The same guy who accidentally hurts feelings is the same sweet man who will openly confess his love and give people hugs when they're down in the dumps. A guy who'll go out of his way to help complete strangers. The guy who gave half his paycheck to buy food for the local food-bank just because. The same little boy who has pushed me and broke my arm for being mean, also kissed my cheek and told me how much he cared about me.”

 

“Awww. Thanks Matt. I do y'know. You mean so much to me.”

 

Matt blushed. He really wasn't used to speaking so openly about what was on his mind. But he sucked it up and continued, “I wouldn't want you to change for the world.”

 

#

 

“Man! I'm so glad for the Christmas holidays. Time to stuff our faces full of food and enjoy the festivities. Hey, tomorrow Matthias is holding a party at his house 'cause his parents will be gone for a while,” said Alfred while at the wheel of his car.

 

Mathieu pursed his lips in thought and said, “That is one of the guys that's usually on the soccer team with you right.”

 

“Yep. His girlfriend Luka will be there too.”

 

“Who?”

 

“Duuuuude! How do you not know? She goes to a private school here in town. Back in Norwegia or whatever she was some kind of famous teen model. Now she's dating Matthias and the guy wants to show her off.”

 

Mathieu curled his lip in distaste, “That's dumb.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because she's a human not an object.”

 

“Well it's not like he's going to be getting her to flash her tits or something. He's just proud of her.”

 

“For her looks,” pointed out Mathieu.

 

“He probably likes her for more than just that.”

 

Mathieu shrugged and looked away.

 

“Do you not like him or something? You always act this way about the guys on the team,” said Alfred, flashing Matt puppy dogs eyes when he was waiting at a stop sign.

 

“I don't not like them. I just...I mean, I know the types of jokes you guys make in the changing room. I've waited for you outside of them, remember?”

 

Alfred frowned, forehead wrinkling, “I never made those jokes though. Even before I knew you were gay, I didn't.”

 

“But you listened to enough of their jokes to pick up the word fag,” said Mathieu and held up his hand when Alfred was about to protest, “I know that you didn't mean to use that word, and that it slipped. But it still hurt. I'd rather not make waves. I'd like to not go to that party.”

 

It appeared that Alfred was about to say more, but the words died on his lips. As they pulled into the driveway of Alfred's house, both teens were struck dumb.

 

“You've got to be kidding me,” said Alfred, whispering the words in a sick sense of awe.

 

“It's...it's...monstrous,” said Mathieu, just staring.

 

“I'm not sure that I can look and yet I can't turn away,” said Alfred.

 

It seemed that even though Arthur and Francis were dating, or at least having sex (the older men hadn't actually told the teens what was up), they were still as competitive as ever.

 

Upon the roof of Arthur's house were rows upon rows of Christmas lights. Hanging out of a fake chimney that had been set up was a plastic Santa. At various points on the roof were plastic reindeer and a sleigh. Every eave, window, piece of fence, tree and bush were covered in strings of blue and white lights. The lawn had so many elf statues, some of which were animated, that Mathieu wondered if the store Arthur bought them at had any left. Many, many stores were probably out of stock of these particular elves. The sides of the driveway were lined with tall plastic candy canes.

 

Mathieu's own house also had lights all over in multicoloured bulbs. On the roof, the lights spelled out “Joyeux Noël”. The sides of the house had many white and red strings of lights in the pattern of a candy cane. The front yard was filled with hundred of animal lawn ornaments, all of them with Santa hats and painted with greens, reds and whites. Each window had a big bushy wreath in them. As well, every tree, bush and fence was covered in lights just like Arthur's.

 

Both houses may have at one point had some kind of theme. But Mathieu just couldn't see it.

 

“I can't wait until we're eighteen and can move,” muttered Alfred.

 

Alfred and Mathieu got out of the car just in time to see Francis storm out of his own house, Arthur on his heels.

 

“I most certainly don't think so. See? Look!” yelled Francis, taking a giant box of tinsel and sprinkling it all over the driveway.

 

Was what his father just said supposed to make some sort of sense? Because Mathieu wasn't seeing it. To Mathieu it appeared as if Francis was losing his mind, twirling about the driveway tossing tinsel every which way.

 

Arthur was sneering and said, “And then you'll have to replace the tinsel when somebody drives over it, which I will. Every day if I have to. My house wins the competition!”

 

“As if. Those elves are horrible. My animals are artistic. You were just copying me.”

 

By this point, both Arthur and Francis were nose to nose, yelling, fists balled. It was comical and Alfred and Mathieu would stand around to watch if they didn't have to squint through all of the bright Christmas lights.

 

“I think you need to take a time out guys,” suggested Alfred, who was ignored completely, “And maybe turn off the lights.”

 

“You two are being children,” said Mathieu, far more quietly than Alfred, so he probably hadn't even been heard let alone ignored.

 

Arthur and Francis made their way back inside, yelling and screaming the whole way. Alfred and Mathieu followed, just to be sure nobody broke anything. Just as the argument looked as if it were about to come to blows, Arthur grabbed Francis and crashed their lips together once they were hidden from the outside by the door.

 

Not hidden from Alfred or Mathieu though, who were still there.

 

Alfred pretended to throw up and jogged out of the house, closing the door behind him once Mathieu followed.

 

“I really do wonder exactly how long they've been together,” wondered Alfred. Shaking his head and opening the door to his own house.

 

“I've been hearing them do it for almost a year at least. Most dysfunctional couple ever.”

 

Alfred stopped just as he was about to reach into the fridge, “So if they get married, which Arthur has insisted won't happen...does that make us brothers? Arthur didn't answer that when I asked him before.”

 

Mathieu thought for a second, “No it doesn't, because Arthur isn't your dad.”

 

“So then I'd be your uncle.”

 

“You're so weird. I don't think it counts as incest since we aren't related by blood so you don't have anything to worry about,” reasoned Mathieu, rolling his eyes.

 

“I guess. Hey, wanna play video games?”

 

“Sure,” said Mathieu, hesitantly because he had a niggling feeling that they were forgetting something.

 

Though since he had no idea what, he shrugged and continued with their night.

 

#

 

The next evening found Alfred and Matt in the car, on their way to Matthias' house. Matt was sitting in the seat and fidgeting like crazy, biting his lower lip and near panic. The other teen hadn't wanted to go when Alfred had shown up in his room dragging him out the door. All it had taken, though, was Alfred flashing his infamous puppy dog eyes and Matt had been putty in his hands.

 

“Will you calm down?” said Alfred, rubbing his hand over Matt's knee, “Everything will be fine. I want you here.”

 

“I guess it will. Geez, I just have a bad feeling.”

 

Alfred found a spot on the side of the road in between two cars in the many that lined the street, having arrived late, so they had to make a bit of a walk. When Matt tried to move really slowly, Al linked their arms. His friend would try to do anything to procrastinate and delay the inevitable.

 

“Do you trust me?” asked Alfred, spinning Matt around to face him.

 

“O-of course I do. I just don't trust the other guys.”

 

Drawing Matt into one last hug, Alfred said, “So in that case, you can trust me when I say that I won't let anything happen.”

 

“But I hate conflict. Can't we go see that new movie that's out. That sci-fi that you wanted to see, with the robots.”

 

“It's cyborgs Matt, and no, we're going to the party.”

 

Crossing his arms, Matt pouted but didn't say anything more. Alfred felt a bit bad for forcing this, but when the house came into view, he knew this would be so much fun. They'd just stay for a little while, then maybe Alfred would take Matt out to get something to eat. His treat.

 

Actually, Arthur's treat, since his big bro had given him some cash to stay out of the house until at least midnight. Alfred decidedly cleared his mind of all memories regarding kitchen counters and slightly hairy french asses.

 

Teens poured out of the house despite the snow and chilly temperature. Some of the girls were wearing incredibly short dresses and barely anything over them. That wasn't something that Alfred understood. Sure, little dresses that showed silky thighs and lots of cleavage was sexy in the summer. But in the winter?

 

Nope. Hypothermia wasn't attractive.

 

After ditching their parkas in a massive coat closet, Alfred spread his arms wide and called, “Hey, Matthias, dude!”

 

The other teen, whose spiky blond hair stood out in the crowd of people, waved a hand in the air, “Alfred, come over here and meet Luka.”

 

Some bunch of the team was there, or at least the guys who were normally picked to play soccer. Matthias of course, but also Sadik, Cam, Nirand, Berwald. Everyone was drinking beer and there was a pyramid of cans already stacked on the table between the group. A slender woman with short platinum blonde hair sat, bored, by Matthias' side. Alfred had to admit, her body was stunning, high cheekbones and perfectly plump lips.

 

Alfred held his hand out to Luka, who took it halfheartedly and shook, “Hey, I'm Alfred Jones. So you're the girl this jackass had been goin' on and on about.”

 

“Most likely,” said Luka, crossing her legs and sipping elegantly from bottle, not meeting Alfred's eyes.

 

He didn't know whether Luka was being shy or just didn't like Alfred. Guess it didn't matter really, since it wasn't like she was his girlfriend.

 

Dragging Matt out from behind him, since his friend had tried to hide himself, probably hoping to fade away from everybody's eye, Alfred said, “Guys, you all remember my friend Matthew right?”

 

There were a variety of grunts and hums from the guys drifted over and Alfred drew his eyebrows together, “I hang out with him all the time. You've met him before. Come on guys!”

 

Matthias waved a hand dismissively and said, “Sure, sure. We all remember him. Now sit down and have a beer.”

 

There was a cooler full of ice and booze by their feet, so Alfred grabbed a cold one for Matt and a soda for himself, glad there were some available. They sat on a loveseat together that had just been empty, amazing due to how many people were in the house.

 

“Hey, aren't you going to get drunk?” asked Sadik, making a gesture with his arm too fast, causing beer to spill onto the ground.

 

“Nah, I'm staying sober tonight since I'm driving us home,” said Alfred, slinging an arm around Matt's shoulders.

 

Matthias chugged his can and grabbed for another, missing the cooler the first two tries before giggling, “Guess that's okay. Yer one of our team's best players, don't want you to be outta commission by dying in a car crash.”

 

The Norwegian girl rolled her eyes and grabbed the drunken Matthias a can, “Not that you really need more.”

 

Alfred just laughed, “Nope. I wanna be in top shape for next season. It'll be my last one after all!”

 

The guys got into a discussion about soccer, movies, video games, and girls. Drinks were chugged and dancing ensued a few times, with hilariously stumbling results. An hour or so went by and Alfred could tell that Matt was getting anxious to leave. Being grateful that Matt came with him to the party, Alfred was just about to say that he needed to leave when Matthias spoke up.

 

“Oh heeeey. I know where I've shhhheen yer friend Matthew from. He's in that group with all the gay guys,” said Matthias, slurring heavily but still understandable.

 

Unfortunately.

 

Sadik piped up, “It's called the gay/straight alliance or some shit I think.”

 

Alfred heard Matt begin to grumble under his breath since they were sitting so close.

 

“More like fags and fat girls,” said Matthias, not even seeming affected by his girlfriend Luka smacking the back of his head.

 

Matt's breathing quickened and gaze narrowed. Alfred stood up and opened his mouth again to say they needed to go. Seriously. This was not going to be good.

 

“I dunno, that one chick is pretty hot. The one with the huge fucking knockers,” said Sadik, laughing.

 

“That's whats-her-name Katerita or something. Naw, she's a dog. So you Matt, you like taking dick up the ass huh? Oh, Hey. Hey, Matt, what's the difference between a refrigerator and a-”

 

The joke, which Alfred had heard Matthias say before a ton of times, was cut off. Matthias didn't have a chance to even see the fist coming. Matthew jumped forward and punched the jock in the face, nose cracking and blood pouring out.

 

As soon as that happened, everybody fell silent even though the music still pulsed in the background. Matt's face paled and he looked at his own fist. Matthias jumped up, swaying to the left before raising his own fist and trying to swing at Matt.

 

Even though the swing was so slow that Matt had dodged out of the way, Alfred got in front of his team-mate, grabbed his hand before it could hit and snarled, “Don't fucking touch him.”

 

“Dib oo shee but ee dib,” Mattias tried to say, but the blood pouring down his face and the alcohol slurred his words to be nearly incomprehensible.

 

“Dude, I have no clue what you're saying but you really need to shut up. I'm leaving.”

 

Alfred didn't stop, only long enough to grab their coats and go outside. They plunked down into the front seats and Alfred quickly drove away.

 

He looked at Matt out of the corner of his eye and saw his friend staring at his own fist as if it were a monster.

 

In the now silence that encompassed the car, Alfred heard Matt whisper, “I hit somebody.”

 

“He did deserve it. Oh Matt, I'm sorry I forced you to go there. He's normally not so bad. It's just cause he was drunk. But I don't even know why I'm defending him. He did deserve it.”

 

“I used violence.”

 

“If it helps, he's so drunk that I doubt he'll even remember who did that to him.”

 

Matt glared over at Alfred, “I'm against violence. Killing zombies is one thing. But actually punching somebody is another. Oh god. What next?”

 

Pulling the car over in a lot of a closed store, Alfred turned his car off and leaned over to hug Matt.

 

“Nothing's next. It'll be fine.”

 

“Just like it was fine in that party? I hated it there. It was uncomfortable, loud and your teammates are arseholes!”

 

A smile crept onto Alfred's lips. His friend used a word like arsehole to avoid outright swearing. Yet during hockey season, the most profane curses came from the sweet mouth.

 

Alfred stifled a chuckle.

 

“Are you laughing? This isn't funny. I didn't want to go there. And did you hear what that guy said about Katerina?”

 

Shaking his head, Alfred said, “I'm sorry. It's just that you're adorable when you get mad.”

 

Matt looked away and grumbled in very quiet and rapid french.

 

Al wrapped his arms around his friend and kissed his cheek, “Can I take you to Timmies and buy you a donut?”

 

“Donuts don't solve everything,” said Matt, quiet and sticking his lower lip out.

 

“I'll get one of those maple-filled ones...” said Alfred, flashing his big, shiny puppy eyes.

 

“No, I'm upset.”

 

“And a hot chocolate...”

 

A pause, and then, “With whipped cream?”

 

Alfred grinned, “And chocolate shavings.”

 

“Fine.”

 

Yeah, everything was going to work out just fine.

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gah! Sorry this took so much long than normal to post. I ended up being busy and this chapter is a frickin' monster compared to normal.
> 
> In writing this chapter I also realized that I know dick all about fashion. I can't tell the differences between tuxedos except for colour. Most dresses also look pretty much the same to me. I seriously researched tuxes for hours. Scoured fashion websites. I hope that I hit the mark anyway. I tried. 
> 
> There's also a small homage to one of my other fave shows, 'Queer as Folk'. I couldn't resist.

**Chapter Nine**

 

That Christmas, Alfred, Matt, Francis and Arthur all had dinner together. They'd done it before, of course, but it felt different. They were two couples, even though Alfred and Matt were still so young. Arthur kept insisting that 'nothing was changing or different dammit'. Even though after dinner, when they were watching a Christmas movie, Arthur totally snuggled up close to Francis. It hadn't happened all at once, Arthur moved closer to Francis slowly.

 

Alfred resisted the urge to chuckle at his older brother whose head was on Francis' shoulder. Arthur's pretended cold indifference was pretty funny.

 

After that, Alfred and Matt fell asleep together in their bedroom. Francis didn't seem to care one way or another that the teens shared the same bed. They always had. Arthur didn't either. That had been surprising. Alfred thought that perhaps Arthur was in some kind of denial about the relationship between the teens.

 

Either way, there wasn't much to worry about. All that had happened between the two seventeen year old boys were a few hand jobs. Alfred, quite frankly, was happy with that for the time being. He was sort of nervous to go any further.

 

Before long January came around and school was back. Alfred hadn't spoken to any of his football friends since that ill-fated Christmas party. They hadn't texted him and he hadn't done the same. He was pretty upset at Matthias. Alfred had never liked those kinds of jokes about gay people before. However he had truly assumed that Matthias was really joking and not being malicious.

 

How had Alfred not seen that his 'friend' was probably a homophobic jerk.

 

Thankfully Matt seemed to have forgotten all about the party and had forgiven Alfred for dragging him along. So everything would likely go back to normal.

 

That was what Alfred thought, at least, until he went into his business class. Matthias sat there, at the back of the room, feet up on a nearby empty chair. There was a pen hanging out of his mouth. His nose appeared more crooked than it had before the party. Had Matt actually broken Matthias' nose?

 

Oh boy.

 

Alfred plopped down into the desk that was beside Matthias and pulled out his binder, “Hey dude! S'up?”

 

“What's up is that your psycho friend broke my damn nose.”

 

Alfred flipped to the first page, clean and blank and all ready to be doodled on. Maybe this lucky page would even get some notes. Eh, it didn't really matter. If the information was going to be remembered for a test, it would stick in Alfred's head when he first heard it or not at all.

 

Then, when he heard what Matthias said, his head snapped over to him, “Matt's not crazy, you were being a jerk.”

 

“I was just telling a joke.”

 

Alfred scowled and doodled the cape for a stick-figure super hero so hard that the paper got a hole in it, “It sure didn't sound like it. You upset him.”

 

“Whatever, all I know is that-” said Matthias, voice changing to whisper when the teacher came in and introduced to the class what he was going to be teaching, “guys who take it up the ass just aren't right. Y'know what I mean, dude.”

 

“Why don't you stop talking, _dude_ ,” snarled Alfred just loud enough for Matthias to hear him and the underlying threat hidden in his voice.

 

After that, the two didn't really speak to one another. That was fine with Alfred.

 

So even three months later, in March, Alfred didn't mind.

 

Really, Al had so many friends, that not hanging out with the guys on the team wasn't that big of a deal. He had Matt, of course, as well as Kiku and Kat. Most other people in the school would chat with Alfred, so really, he was never alone.

 

Only their closest friends knew about he and Matthew being together. Officially at least. Alfred found himself being clingier to Matt than he ever had been. It was as if the dam had broken and all of the touches that Alfred had held back previously were let loose. Even if they didn't want to be fully out at school, Alfred couldn't stop his subtle touching and the constant barrage of hugs.

 

“Matt, Matt, Matt, Matt, Matt, Matt, Matt!” called Alfred from way down the hall, yelling over every other teen's head and weaving through the crowd.

 

However it was so loud and at the end of the day, that Matt didn't even look up and must not have heard him. Matt's head of slightly curly hair was facing the floor, looking at something that was probably in his backpack.

 

Alfred was close, so close to seeing his wonderful friend when he saw Matthias. The spiky haired teen brushed by Matthew, close enough to body check the other without it being obvious. Matt stumbled and fell to the ground, dropping an open binder. Papers scattered and slid all over the floor. Matthias continued to walk by and stepped on the papers with his dirt covered shoes. Sadik, who was behind Matthias did the same and they all laughed.

 

Matthew tried to gather what he could of his papers, eyes going blank as they did whenever he was upset but didn't want to show emotion.

 

Alfred crouched and gathered as many of the papers as he could get to and stacked them neatly on the pile that Matthew was making.

 

“It's been over three months since you punched him at the party. Why is he acting up now, of all times?” asked Alfred, standing up and leaning on the locker beside Matt's.

 

Matt grunted and didn't say anything, nor did he meet Al's eyes. Suddenly Alfred had a sneaking suspicion that this hadn't been the only time this had happened.

 

“How long has this been going on?” asked Alfred, frowning down at his friend.

 

“I have no idea what you mean,” said Matthew, putting the rest of his stuff in his locker and shutting the lock closed with a snick.

 

Matt smiled up at him and said, “Now, do you wanna get going?”

 

Alfred shook his head, “No, I want you to tell me how long they've been doing this kind of thing to you. What have they been doing, other than what I've just seen.”

 

“It's not a big deal. I did start it anyway, when I punched him. So I kind of deserve it don't I?”

 

“No,” said Alfred, jogging to stand in front of Matt and block his way when the guy tried to head towards the front of the school, “Please tell me.”

 

Matt raised one brow skeptically, “Do you promise not to do anything stupid?”

 

“No.”

 

“Then I can't tell you,” said Matt, walking around Alfred but not sounding upset, just resigned.

 

“Fine,” said Alfred.

 

He didn't have soccer practice that day because of the condition of the fields and the fact that they'd been practising nearly every day after school any way. So he could drive the two of them home right away.

 

Once they were at the car and sitting inside, Alfred was just about to put the key in the ignition when Matthew opened the door, “Crap. I'll be right back. I forgot something in my locker. Just wait here.”

 

Alfred leaned back in his seat for a few minutes, putting on the radio and humming along to a song. The station played another good song right after, so he got caught in in that one too, singing.

 

It wasn't until the sixth song went by that Alfred realized that Matt had been longer than he should have been. He got out, locking his car behind him and went to see what was taking Matt. His friend's locker was near the back of the school and it was easier to get to by circling the building, rather than go into the front doors and through the hallways and down the stairs. He didn't encounter anybody, because the school had pretty much cleared out.

 

Alfred opened the back door and heard the noise right away. It sounded like a group of people were all talking at once, antagonizing but not loud enough for the words to be clear. He jogged to see what was happening and nearly dropped the keys he'd been swinging on the tip of his index finger.

 

“Faggot! What the hell are you doin' to our friend?” said Matthias, getting right in Matthew's face, quiet enough that a teacher would have to strain their ears to hear.

 

Alfred was nearly directly behind them at that point. Four guys from the soccer team who hung out together, minus Berwald. They were in a semi-circle around Matt and didn't see him approach.

 

Sadik piped up, “We always saw him hang around you, but we didn't ever really know that you were a queer.”

 

Matthias chuckled, “You're just too lame to stick in our memories until now at least.”

 

Matt looked over and saw Alfred and tried to walk around Matthias to get to him. Matthias shot his arm out quickly and blocked Matt's way and sneered, “Where do you think you're going?”

 

Alfred ran up as fast as he could and hissed in Matthias' ear, “Get your fucking hand off of him.”

 

“Or what?” said Matthias, shoving Matt.

 

Matt was balling his fists up at that point, staring at the ground with his jaw clenched. Alfred could tell that his friend was hanging on by a thread.

 

Matthias spoke one more time, “You know. It's because of you two being at that damn party that Luka broke up with me. She said I was an ass. You deserve this. Your pathetic fairy here deserves what we give him.”

 

Before Alfred could stop him, Matthias brought his fist back and punched Matt.

 

Quiet and unassuming, Matthew Williams-Bonnefoy might be. He may slouch and seem shorter than he truly is. He may hate conflict and be generally anti-violence, however Alfred's best friend was anything but pathetic.

 

Matt dodged the fist and brought his hand up to block it. His other fist, the one that had been balling earlier, swung out and caught Matthias in the jaw. Alfred was about to jump into the fray but Sadik kicked out at Alfred's legs, causing him to stumble.

 

Since Matt was doing a decent job at fending off Matthias, Alfred went after Sadik. The other two boys joined, fighting Matt and Alfred. The two were outnumbered, both getting hit all over. So when Berwald rounded the corner, Alfred groaned and dodged another hit. He was actually hoping that a teacher came by soon to stop this.

 

Not that somebody as epically cool as he and Matt really needed a whole lot of help.

 

However Berwald didn't start after Matt or Alfred. The giant teen took some of the heat off of Matt by pinning one of the other guys to the ground with ease.

 

By then, their scuffle had been noted by a teacher who was patrolling the halls to see if they were empty.

 

“Hey. Stop that right now. You're all coming upstairs with me.”

 

Everybody stopped, leaned back and groaned.

 

Shit.

 

#

 

“Suspended! Seriously?” shouted Arthur, standing up during the middle of the dinner that the four of them were having at Mathieu's home.

 

“It's just for a few days,” said Alfred, not really appearing to care, stabbing a bite of lemon glazed chicken with his fork.

 

“For fighting? Why? This sort of thing goes on your records you know.”

 

At that, Mathieu saw Alfred clam up and grab a piece of the freshly baked baguette. He buttered it up with vigour and took a large bite.

 

Mathieu himself, wasn't hungry. He'd allowed himself to stoop to the level of violence once more. This time he'd been suspended for it. He'd hurt another human being.

 

Granted, Mathias was such a jerk that he maybe didn't fully count as human.

 

“Are either of you two listening to me? Well fine. Don't pay attention to me. If you aren't willing to tell me what happened, then you two will clean both of these houses top to bottom,” said Arthur, crossing his arms and staring over at Francis, who was sitting quietly and staring into his glass of wine.

 

His papa never had been very good at the whole discipline thing. Though Mathieu hadn't ever really needed it. He had always been a very well behaved individual. Right now, Mathieu was squirming in his seat to tell the truth. Yet he also really didn't want to.

 

Mathieu didn't know what to do. He looked over at Francis, who didn't meet his eyes. Swallowing audibly, Mathieu stared at his plate. He supposed that he deserved his father's scorn.

 

For weeks he had been ignoring Matthias and his insults and he'd been doing so well with not punching that jerk right in the face. He couldn't believe that he'd finally given in.

 

“Mathieu?” said Francis, eyes soft and a smile upon his face.

 

“Oui papa?” Mathieu whispered to his chicken.

 

“Please tell me why. I'd really like to understand your actions. You've been such a sweet boy until today. I know you are almost a grown man, but, I just-” said Francis, ending his words with a deep sigh and allowing his blue eyes to widen.

 

Was his Papa giving him...puppy dog eyes?

 

Mathieu still was silent. He just couldn't do it and he hoped that Alfred would remain the same way.

 

Except that Arthur hadn't taken his eyes off of Alfred, staring at the young man with the fiery intensity of a small star.

 

“OKAY! Geez, fine. I started the fight because Matthias, a guy on my soccer team, called Matt a fairy and had surrounded him. They were lobbing insults at him. This hadn't been the first time either,” said Alfred, looking over at Mathieu sheepishly and, afterwards, mouthing a quick 'I'm sorry'.

 

Glaring at Alfred, Matthew grumbled, “I had to join in or it would have been four against one. I'm so sorry.”

 

Arthur finally let the menacing look on his face melt away and become replaced with a smile, “There we go boys, that wasn't so hard, was it.”

 

Francis, also, looked quiet pleased with himself and took a sip of his wine.

 

Grinning, Alfred said, “So you aren't mad?”

 

“Not really, though I wish you hadn't resorted the violence,” said Francis.

 

“Does that means that we don't have to clean the houses?”

 

Arthur laughed, Francis joined him, before the former said, “Oh heavens no. You have three free days now. I think you can put them to good use and make both houses sparkle, right?”

 

Alfred pouted. Mathieu brushed his foot tenderly against Alfred's legs. His friend dropped the sour expression.

 

#

 

Once they got back from their suspension, both Mathieu and Alfred were pleasantly surprised to find Berwald hanging out with them. At lunch on the first day back, he walked over, glowering and sat beside them. Behind him was...

 

“Hi Timo,” said Mathieu, speaking to the blond haired and always pleasantly smiling teen who sat across from him.

 

“Hei! Berwald told me what happened when I asked why he was suspended. What a surprise that he was helping out my friend from Rainbow Club,” said Timo, placing down his pre-packed lunch.

 

Berwald sat down, stiff and looking, frankly, scary as hell. Mathieu shuffled on the seat, the urge to leave strong. But Berwald had helped them, so, “Thanks Berwald, I'm glad you were there for us. Um, so you're the guy Timo has been seeing, huh.”

 

Alfred's eyes nearly popped from their sockets, “You're gay! I had no idea. Why didn't you ever say anything before?”

 

While he opened the brown paper bag that Timo set in front of him, Berwald said, “Didn't know how.”

 

Timo nodded as if this was a fact, “Ber is shy. Don't let his scary face fool you. I almost let it when he and I first met. Thought he was going to kill me,” said Timo, gazing fondly over at his own boyfriend.

 

“Though you've told me about all of the sweet things he has done for you, so there's no way I could be scared of him I suppose.”

 

Alfred slapped both hands on the table, “Berwald! You and I can stick together when we play soccer. We'll be a team and no way will anybody try to take us on.”

 

Berwald just nodded in what must have been agreement.

 

That was that. Mathieu and Alfred's group of friends grew two people larger. Timo and Berwald began to accompany them to hang out at movies and the diner.

 

Even still, Alfred and Mathieu weren't fully out at school. They didn't kiss or hold hands. Not until they were at home, or away from school and the stores that most students went to near the school grounds. It hadn't been a decision that they'd consciously made, simply what felt natural.

 

So when Alfred came into Matt's room one day in May with two tickets in his hand, placing them on the bed in between them, he was taken aback.

 

“You want us to go to Prom together?” said Mathieu, staring down at the two glossy rectangles of paper.

 

“Why not? Other couples do. Won't it be cool to dance together?” asked Alfred taking the tickets and putting them on the bedside table before moving closer, fitting their bodies together.

 

“Sure I'd like to dance with you. But most couples will be hetero.”

 

“Nuh-uh. Not all of them. I saw Berwald in line ahead of me buying two of his own tickets.”

 

Matt kissed the tip of Alfred's perky nose and said, “Are you sure you're ready for that? Hanging out with a gay guy all the time is one thing. But if you dance with one at your prom, nobody will care that you're only hot for me and Captain America. Everybody will lump you as gay.”

 

Pinning Matt under him, Alfred said, “I don't care. I want to go to prom with my boyfriend. And if that means being called gay, then...well I guess I'm gay.”

 

“I don't know.”

 

From the door, Mathieu heard the quietly spoken, “Say yes, papa wants to dress you up in a tuxedo.”

 

“Stop listening in on my conversations!” said Mathieu, giving the door a dirty look and hoping that the eavesdropping man behind it would feel the glare.

 

“Well?” said Alfred, hope shining out like a beacon, filling Mathieu's heart with his radiance.

 

“I guess. I just hope that I won't stumble over my feet, or that people won't stare too much.”

 

“You won't, you'll be great. And if, for some reason, you start losing your coolness, I'll be there to take away the spotlight.”

 

Mathieu rolled his eyes and gave Alfred a kiss on the cheek.

 

#

 

“Papa, these all look the same.”

 

Francis gasped and lightly swatted Matthew's arm, “Bite your tongue!”

 

“But they do though Francis,” said Alfred, coming down the hall from Matthew's room, which had been designated the official changing station, “They are all black with white shirts and black bow-ties. Oh, and black pants.”

 

Arthur sat on a chair in the corner of the room, eyes drooping in boredom. Every time he tried to leave the room, Francis screeched about Arthur needing to see Alfred's every outfit. Wanker.

 

“Frog, seriously. Can't they just rent a tuxedo like all the other teens?”

 

Jaw dropped, Francis looked over, sputtering words helplessly before he finally decided on, “You'd have your brother Alfred and my son look like commoners?”

 

Arthur's eyes shifted to look all around the room, “Yes?”

 

Resting the back of his hand on his forehead, Francis acted as if he were about to faint, “This is made of a light superfine wool.”

 

Francis had been pointing at Alfred's jacket before gesturing to the one on Matt, “This is wool mohair.”

 

Then he went to the rack with hanging jackets, “This one is made of virgin wool. Spun solely for this jacket alone. Never spun before since coming off of the sheep. It's beautiful.”

 

“Where did you get all of these? And made to fit the boys no less,” asked Arthur.

 

“I have pull in the industry mon lapin, I got some sent over to try on first.”

 

Trying to narrow his eyes, Arthur realized they already were, so he decided to add a sneer to his lips and said, “And how much will they cost.”

 

“Money is not an issue for something as important as prom fashion.”

 

“Francis Bonnefoy.”

 

The man in question looked concerned, Arthur never used his full name. Arthur used that to his advantage in order to get the damn man's attention, “How much?”

 

“ _Mutter Mutter Mumble_ thousand.”

 

“What was that? Because I'm fairly certain I heard thousand, renting a couple tuxedos would be no more than five hundred.”

 

“Six or seven thousand, give or take.”

 

Arthur felt his jaw drop and his body tense up, “There is no way that I just heard what I think I did.”

 

“Oh come now, it isn't that much money. I have more than enough.”

 

From the footstool that he was standing on, Matthew said, “So can this be what I wear? I don't want to try on any more suits.”

 

Francis said, “Tuxedo, mon petit, not suit.”

 

Mumbling from his chair, Arthur put a hand on his forehead, “I can't believe that I'm dating such a right bloody fool.”

 

All complaints and fuss died immediately and all three of the people in the room turned to look at him. Francis had a big, dopey grin on his usually lecherous face.

 

“What?” said Arthur, growling.

 

“That was the first time that you've admitted to dating me in front of the boys,” said Francis, dropping his measuring tape and gathering Arthur up into a hug.

 

Swatting at Francis' chest, Arthur said, “Well don't let it get to your wine-loving head or anything.”

 

Alfred, who had already found a place to ditch the jacket that he was wearing, scoffed and said, “Well, it isn't as if we didn't know, eventually.”  
  


Matthew flushed and said, “I sort of figured that you two weren't just, y'know, sleeping together.”

 

Getting up and stomping out of the room, Arthur said, “I'm going to have a beer.”

 

Francis said, “And I love you too.”

 

Alfred made a loud, “Awww! So cute.”

 

Yelling back, “Fools. The lot of you.”

 

#

 

Tears sprung up, unbidden to Francis' eyes as he watched his son walk down the stairs. Mathieu looked so dapper, hair tied back with curls springing free to frame his face. He remembered when he first saw his little boy, swaddled in a cotton hospital blanket. Francis clearly recalled those baby soft hands blindly grasping his own index finger.

 

Now, Mathieu was nearly a grown man, standing taller than Francis himself.

 

Francis fanned his face, not even caring how much of a sobbing queen that he must look like.

 

“Papa? Are you okay?” asked Mathieu, jogging up to Francis and putting a hand on his shoulder.

 

“I know that I've been seeing you in tuxedos for a few days now. It's just hitting me so suddenly. You are going to your senior prom. You graduate in less than a month,” said Francis.

 

“Well, yeah, um...but it's not like I'm moving out or anything. I'll be going to school in town. There are enough universities around, so I won't have to leave.”

 

“Oh I know. I just feel so sentimental,” said Francis, cupping both of Mathieu's cheeks and smiling before saying, “I'm simply amazed that somewhere along the way, I managed to raise you to be a great young man.”

 

“You're a good father,” said Mathieu, giving Francis a hug.

 

Francis hugged back. From the front door behind him, he heard two sets of footsteps.

 

“Hate to break up this love-fest, but Matt and I need to get going,” said Alfred.

 

Francis watched his son go weak in the knees when he broke away and saw his date. Alfred's hair was combed back, very lightly gelled. He wore the suit very well, filling out every inch perfectly. If he wasn't in love with Arthur and Alfred wasn't almost his son, he would have flirted with him in a heartbeat.

 

Alfred went over to Mathieu, a blue rose boutonnière in hand. Sheepishly, the boy tried to put the floral decoration in place before looking over his shoulder with a helpless look.

 

“Arthur help!”

 

Mathieu laughed in that quiet way of his as Arthur rolled his eye and pushed the stem of the flower through the lapel buttonhole before patting the boy's shoulder, “There. Perfect.”

 

Francis swooned. It reminded him of his own prom, even though he went with a lady, “You are both so handsome. And, oh, that reminds me.”

 

He went to his room and grabbed out the items that he needed. Then he was quickly back and presented the items, “Because it's always good to be prepared, non?”

 

Mathieu stared, mortified at the condoms and lube packets that had been shoved into his hands, “Ten condoms? H-how much...why...huh? Y'know, nevermind. Thanks.”

 

Both boys took off after the older men had taken some photos, leaving Arthur and Francis alone in the house.

 

“Well mon cher, we have the house to ourselves. What shall we do?” said Francis, sashaying up to Arthur, who looked just the teensiest bit misty-eyed.

 

Just as he was right up next to his prey, Arthur threw his arms around Francis' neck. With a sigh, Arthur rested his head on Francis' chest. Right after he placed a gentle kiss to Arthur's perpetually messy hair, Francis said, “Are you alright?”

 

“I will be. Just shut up with your incessant croaking and hold me for now.”

 

Shaking his head in fond exasperation, Francis did just as he was bid without a scathing retort in kind.

 

#

 

“I'm nervous,” said Mathieu. Sitting in the passenger seat of the mustang, hands between his knees.

 

They'd arrived later than expected after all of the fussing with his outfit, and Al's pit stop to grab a bottle of coke and some chips. The parking lot was full of cars and empty of people; the building thrumming with the low pulse of music. As a result, they had to park at the very far end of the lot.

 

Alfred killed the engine and leaned back in his seat, face screwed up in concentration.

 

“I have an idea,” blurted Alfred, turned the key in the ignition so that he could play the MP3 player that was plugged in.

 

“Just great, it's Arthur's. He must have grabbed mine by mistake. Tomorrow I'm going to go buy a sticker or something so that the old man can tell them apart. Oh well, there's gotta be something on here. This one will do, I've heard him play it before,” mumbled Alfred, Mathieu wondering what was going on.

 

Alfred opened his side and just as Mathieu reached for his own handle, he was stopped.

 

Alfred ran around and opened Matt's door for him and said, “Press play on that wouldja?”

 

Doing so, he heard the song's first soft and jaunty notes.

 

“What's this song called?” asked Matt, taking Alfred's hand and being pulled close.

 

Alfred put his hand on Matt's waist and Mathieu draped his arm onto Al's shoulder. They held hands.

 

“Save the last dance for me, by the Drifters,” whispered Alfred.

 

Together, in the pale moonlight, hand in hand, they swayed. Touching noses, pecking cheeks with the soft caress of lips. A perfect sway of hips and neither of them tripping over feet, despite their lack of affinity towards dancing. Staring into each other's eyes.

 

As the last few notes of the song faded into silence, Alfred leaned down and said, “I love you.”

 

That was the first time Al had said that. Sure they'd admitted affection, desire, intense like. They knew how each other felt, and so hadn't really spoken the words.

 

But right then, it was oh so wonderful.

 

Matt pressed his lips, shy and tender to Alfred's. He tangled his fingers into Alfred's hair and pulled back, resting their foreheads together.

 

“I love you too. So much.”

 

After several more moments, the phone in Mathieu's pocket buzzed and he pulled apart from Al to take a look.

 

[Kat: Where r u guys?]

 

Al, who had been reading over his shoulder, said, “Let's go party!”

 

#

 

There hadn't been as many stares as Mathieu had been expecting. Not nearly as many students seemed to care as Matt had assumed. Sure, some people were curious and watched them. However mostly, it was girls looking at them. And a few guys.

 

Yeah, it still made Mathieu blush in embarrassment, but for a totally different reason than being discriminated against.

 

When he saw Ivan watching him, Mathieu felt a bit sad. Ivan had been crushing on him for so long that seeing Alfred and Matt together at the prom must really feel bad. However when Carlos went over to Ivan and shyly held out a hand to the blond, Matt felt hope.

 

Matt watched Ivan's eyes widen and then look down at the floor. Ivan bit his lip and said something that Matt was too far away to hear. Carlos scratched the back of his own neck and then leaned down to place a kiss onto Ivan's cheek. Then the two went to the floor and danced together.

 

And Matt felt a surge of joy.

 

Kat didn't have a guy date, but went with some of her female friends.

 

At one point, during a break in the songs, Mathieu excused himself from Alfred.

 

Kat was wearing a one shoulder dress with a pleated bodice. It was an antique rose and was cinched at the waist with a silver, beaded belt. It flowed, soft and airy, down to her knees. He knew these things because Katerina had constantly texted Mathieu to ask his father for fashion advice.

 

“See, I told you that you would look great,” said Mathieu, smiling wide at his other best friend.

 

“So do you. I wish that I had a rich father who had connections in the fashion world,” said Kat.

 

“It's not as great as it seems. If I hear one more word about tuxedos I'll puke. Anyway, do you want to dance?”

 

“I thought you'd never ask.”

 

#

 

Surprisingly, or at least to Alfred, who'd been caught off guard, Matt started sucking on his neck as soon as they got into the car once the prom was done. Each and every time they stopped at a stop sign or intersection, Matt attached to his skin. He'd draw his tongue up and nibble along Alfred's jawline.

 

“Ma-ah-att, you've never been this affectionate before. I-ah appreciate it but maybe you can hold off for a few minutes so that we don't die in a car crash. What's gotten into you anyway?”

 

“It's prom.”

 

“Uh, yeah. So?”

 

Matt slipped his hand over Al's thigh and up between his legs. Alfred held back a groan.

 

Matt said, “So don't people usually have sex on prom night?”

 

“In movies and stuff. We don't have to if you aren't ready.”

 

Alfred pulled into his driveway as Matt whispered, “Does it feel like I'm not ready?”

 

Without being given a choice in the matter, Alfred had his hand tugged over to the hard-on in Matt's pants, “Nope. You feel pretty ready.”

 

Nuzzling behind his ear and breathing into it to make Al shiver, Matt said, “Are you ready?”

 

Shuddering out his words, Alfred said, “Y-yes. But can I ask you a favour?”

 

“Of course you can top,” said Matt with a breathy laugh.

 

“Actually, I don't want to,” said Alfred, rushing the words out all at once and looking away, “At least not tonight.”

 

Man, he knew that he shouldn't be embarrassed but he couldn't help it. Guys had girls put on dildos to have sex with them. Pegging was it? The act didn't make him less of a man.

 

Whatever, Alfred was pretty confident about what he wanted and...geez...why hadn't Matt said anything.

 

He peeked over from the corner of his eyes and saw Matt with a dopey smile. The kind that the other guy would get when they'd been drinking or when Matt had-

 

“You didn't sneak away to smoke a joint with Kat did you?” said Alfred with a frown.

 

“No! Of course not,” said Matthew.

 

“Then what's up?” asked Alfred.

 

“You've always been Mr.Straighty-Straight until just this year. I didn't think you'd want to bottom for a long time, if ever.”

 

“And it makes you happy that I do?”

 

Matt threw his arms around Alfred and said, “Very. I've always sort of thought that I would prefer to top.”

 

“But you'd have bottomed for me?” asked Alfred, heart swelling.

 

“Of course.”

 

“Aww. Now I really want you in my ass.”

 

They went quick but quiet, stumbling up the stairs with a drunkenness that had nothing to do with alcohol since they were completely sober. They laughed, but in order to keep silent, it sounded more like girlish giggling. Both teens had no idea if their guardians were here or in Matthew's house.

 

When Matt tip-toed up to Francis' bedroom door to listen to determine if they were in there.

 

“Ew! You're listening to see if your dad is having sex in there,” said Alfred, wrinkling his nose.

 

“Or Arthur's snoring. Besides, I've heard them going at it before. I'm no longer traumatized. That or it will all come screaming back in a nightmares when I'm in my forties,” muttered Matt, who then backed away from the door and headed for his own room, “I honestly can't see how you haven't heard them by now.”

 

“You know how deep I sleep.”

 

Matt didn't reply, but instead got out of his clothes. Alfred locked the door behind himself and then did the same. They made sure to put everything back on their proper hangers, not wishing to risk the wrath of a scorned fashion diva who could “feel the pain of the clothing being cruelly wrinkled”.

 

Once in his boxers, putting his phone on silent, Alfred went over to where Matt laid on the bed. His lover patted the bed beside him and smiled, but Al saw Matt's hands tremble.

 

“We really don't have to do this tonight,” assured Al.

 

“No, I want this to be the first time one of us...penetrates.”

 

For a long time, they kissed. Usually, their tongues would tangle lazily, lips slipping in the wetness that would build up. Not now. Once Matt breached Al's mouth, he dominated and mapped out every inch as if he hadn't already done so before. One of Matthew's hands tangled into Al's hair. The free hand rolled one of Al's nipples between his thumb and index finger.

 

Alfred groaned but it was swallowed by Matt.

 

When they broke, they were panting and Alfred's nipples were pebbled and hard. Al's hips were humping at the air with subtle movements.

 

Al watched Matt reach to the beside stand and grab the flimsy plastic package of lube that Francis had given them early in the evening. Matt placed it and a condom on the bed beside them.

 

Then, Matt licked a path with the very tip of his tongue down Alfred's chest, dipping into his navel to swirl once, twice and then down. Matt pulled Alfred's boxers down and off before blowing a gust of air against Alfred's already hard dick.

 

They'd gotten as far as blow-jobs, though Alfred found it somewhat hard. Not because he didn't love to pleasure Matt, but because he apparently had a sensitive gag-reflex. So they'd stuck mostly to hand-jobs in the past. Alfred loved Matt's blow jobs but felt bad getting so much pleasure, only to have a hand to offer in kind.

 

Tonight though, he was ready and so willing to reciprocate in a totally different way.

 

It took every ounce of restraint not to buck his hips up and further into Matt's mouth when it felt that warm heat cover his cock. Matt had assured him after the first blow job that he had never done it before. Al had no idea how somebody could have a natural talent at such an act. Must be Matt's french genes.

 

It felt amazing.

 

As Matt's head bobbed, Al hardly registered the rip of plastic and the slick and cool press of a finger at his entrance. He didn't even wince as it slid in, because he had played with himself down there before. Just a little, or maybe a lot.

 

Matt's soon slipped another finger in, free hand roaming over Alfred's body as he also sucked him deep. Alfred vibrated with need and with the wanting to thrust. He weaved fingers through Matthew's hair, giving into his urge to tug those silky and curled strands with making sure to be careful.

 

“Close,” rasped Alfred, breathing a sigh of relief and desperation when Matt pulled back.

 

Slowly, Matt put in another finger, “So tight.”

 

“I-I haven't fingered myself in a few days. I should have but I was thinking so much about going to prom with you,” said Alfred, wiggling as he willed himself to relax under Matthew's gentle touch.

 

He'd easily taken three of his own fingers before but it felt so much different when it was another person's. Alfred felt Matt curl his fingers and probe around. Gently searching.

 

“Don't bother. I don't think I have a prostate,” said Alfred.

 

“Every guy has a prostate,” replied Matt poking around more.

 

“Well if I do, you can't feel it from my ahhhhh-ss,” said Alfred, bucking wildly.

 

When Matt's long and thick fingers probed deep and found that one small area, it made Alfred see little white spots in his vision. He didn't even stop to think about whether or not seeing spots was normal, he just cried, “Oh do that again.”

 

Matt did, a few more times until he pulled out and said, “You're pretty relaxed now. Are you ready for me?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“O-okay,” said Matthew.

 

Alfred watched Matt's too shaking hands rip open the condom package, only to tear a hole with one of his blunt fingernails. Matt grabbed another condom and tried again only to somehow send it shooting across the room.

 

Though he was still, hard and horny beyond belief, Alfred sat up and grabbed a condom himself. He opened it carefully and rolled it down Matt's straining cock. His lover hissed at the contact and Alfred made light movements of applying more lubricant, lest he set Matt off.

 

Alfred laid back on the bed, legs spread and groaned when Matt hovered over him, the hot tip of his dick at Al's quivering hole.

 

“Just promise me that you'll tell me if it's too much, okay? Please,” asked Matt, before pushing in.

 

He went slow, and Alfred was glad. The stretch burned, so much. He felt a droplet of wet build in the corner of one eye and he was tempted to ask Matt to pull back.

 

But then he looked into Matt's so deep blue eyes that were flecked with indigo and pupils blown wide. Matt's mouth was agape with wonder and pleasure as he slid ever forth. There was no way that Alfred would tell Matt to stop. This was what he wanted. Alfred wanted to feel Matthew take his pleasure in him. To feel the sense of love and completion that came with it. He'd waited so long because those feelings were corny and a bit embarrassing. Yet they were true.

 

He wanted to be one with Matt.

 

They moved together, slow all the way through. Naturally and instinctively their hands crept to each other until their fingers were twined. They were both so inexperienced with this sort of sex that they were crying out in no time, Matt's hips moving faster and faster. The entire time, they didn't break eye contact and only let go of their clasped hands to stroke Alfred off.

 

Until they both shuddered and found bliss.

 

Eventually, far too soon, Matt pulled out, Alfred whimpering with the loss and empty feeling. Matt tied off the end of the condom and brought it to the garbage. He brought some tissues over and wipes Alfred off.

 

Right then, there were no words. Nothing more that they could express how deeply their feelings went for each other. They simply lay next to one another and let sleep take them under.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! It turns out that I can write pure fluff after-all. I'm proud. The angst monster has been fully chained for this fic.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I know that the wait was long. I had to wait until inspiration hit me again. I am glad that I waited because I'm happy with how this went.
> 
> So anyway. This is the end of the road for this fic. I'm happy for everybody who followed along and enjoyed. Thank you!

Chapter Ten

 

Climbing the last of the four flights of stairs, since their elevator was broken yet again, Mathieu breathed a sigh of relief. Too much school, sitting and studying was taking a real toll out of his normal active life. He hadn't had a lot of time for playing hockey or working out like he used to. It was sort of sad that he got a bit winded from climbing stairs.

 

Leaning against the wall beside the door to his apartment, Mathieu waited until he looked as if the climb had been no big thing. The last thing that he wanted was for Alfred to see him this way.

 

Except that the man in question poked his head out the door, “I saw your car pull in and wondered what was taking so...long...Are you sweating?”

 

“It was hot outside,” said Matt.

 

No longer needing to hide, Matt went inside, taking off his shoes and putting down his shoulder bag. Alfred studied him intensely, he could feel it.

 

“It's fifteen degrees Celsius outside. I know that you don't find that cold but you don't consider that hot Matt, I know you.”

 

The scent of cooking beef and the sizzle of meat from the kitchen pervaded Matt's senses and he went to see what his boyfriend was cooking.

 

Steaks. There was a pot boiling on the stove. It was likely filled with potatoes scheduled to be mashed and mixed with all kinds of yummy but fattening things. There was also a salad made.

 

The bowl of greens was probably because Francis had come over without warning too many times and witnessed the young men eating only meat and carbs. They'd finally received an earful as well as a demand that they eat more nourishing meals.

 

Matt was glad that Alfred had dropped the subject. Alfred handed Matt a cold beer and stood by the stove as he flipped the meat and then added more BBQ sauce.

 

“So this is a sign that you need to make time to come to the gym with me,” said Alfred, no trace of joking in his words.

 

“But Al,” said Matt, talking to the table.

 

“If I can find time to work out between my job at the garage, shopping and cleaning, you can exercise. You WILL exercise.”

 

Going up behind Alfred, Matt wrapped his arms around the other man and kissed the back of his neck, “I'm sorry. I know how much you do around here and all so that I can focus on my studies.”

 

“Nah, it's fine. I just don't want you to become unhealthy. You need to keep up on your workouts.”

 

“Okay. I'll go with you tomorrow morning.”

 

Matt sat down at the table only to get back up a few minutes later when the buzzer began to blare.

 

He pressed the button to allow the person entrance and waited. Katerina burst in before long, bouncing with a soft flush to her cheeks and a large grin. She jogged over to Matt and stuck her hand in his face.

 

On her finger was a ring.

 

"He finally proposed," said Kat, sounding more excited than she had in a really long time.

 

Al muttered under his breath, "Can't believe that stick in the mud finally got the hint."

 

Kat looked over with a fair bit of confusion. She must not have heard all of what Alfred said because she tilted her head and said, "Huh?"

 

"Nothing. We're happy for you! So? Is Matt going to be your maid-of-honour?" said Alfred, grinning.

 

Kicking Alfred under the table and satisfied with the tiny yelp that he got in return, Matt said, "That doesn't matter right now. What matters is celebrating your engagement to Ludwig."

 

Giggling, Kat sat at the table and took the beer that Matt offered.

 

Kat fingered the table and lightly spun the beer bottle on it's bottom with her other hand, “Al does have a point. I was sort of hoping that you'd stand up front with me at my wedding.”

 

Alfred, the jerk, looked away and began to snicker. Matt kicked him under the table.

 

“I'd love to, so long as I...well, y'know.”

 

Kat shook her head and said, “I won't make you wear a dress.”

 

“Thank god.”

 

Alfred made a very suspicious sound of disappointment.

 

#

 

“Arthur, I didn't expect that to happen,” said Francis, on his knees in front of Arthur, grasping his lover's hand.

 

“Yeah right. As if I'd believe that.”

 

“I didn't mean anything by it. You know that when faced by immense beauty, I simply cannot help but give in,” said Francis, trying to get his lover to understand.

 

“And how did you think that I'd feel, hm?”

 

“To be honest, I'm not sure I did think very much about that. Perhaps I thought that you'd understand,” said Francis once more.

 

“Who would?” said Arthur, turning abruptly and crossing his arms over his chest.

 

“I wish that I could turn back time and take it back.”

 

Sullen, Francis looked over at the source of their woes. A sparkling ring, covered in diamonds and beautiful in it's elegance. It was a woman's wedding ring.

 

And he'd proposed to Arthur with it.

 

At Arthur's work.

 

And called him “mon petit lapin”.

 

Perhaps that hadn't been one of Francis' more well thought out romantic gestures. Usually he'd plan ahead with more foresight. However Francis, ever the romantic, had really wanted to propose. He'd also really loved that ring.

 

Arthur was sitting on his armchair in his own house. Though really, the guy hardly spent any time there unless he was pissed at Francis. The two of them were almost always next door and had lived that way for the past several years.

 

“So you won't marry me, even after all this time?” said Francis, refusing to let his lower lip wobble.

 

Arthur was quiet for the longest time before saying, “Move to the couch and sit down dammit.”

 

Francis did as asked because despite being rejected, he still loved Arthur.

 

Before he could think about what happened, Arthur grabbed the ring, got to his knees and said, “Francis Bonnefoy, you sodding fool, will you marry me?”

 

Just realizing that Arthur had slid the ring onto Francis' finger, he broke out in a smile.

 

“Really? But I thought that you didn't want to,” said Francis.

 

“I only didn't want a lady's wedding ring. Just yes or no to my question.”

 

“Yes, yes of course.”

 

“Well good then. Luck for you, our fingers are the same size,” said Arthur, kissing the finger of Francis' hand that now held the ring.

 

Holding it up and letting the lights capture each facet of the clear diamonds. Francis said, “Yes. And you know, it looks better on me anyway.”

 

#

 

“I can't believe that you're getting married before me,” said Alfred, the damned brat.

 

Though brat really only applied to a child, did it? And Alfred was now a twenty-three year old man. Alfred stood behind Arthur in one of the dressing rooms of the hall that they'd rented for the wedding.

 

Jabbing his elbow back into his little brother's stomach, Arthur snorted and said, “As if I'd wish for poor Matthew to be legally bound to you.”

 

Arthur's fingers shook as he tried, and failed, to straighten his bow-tie. Alfred nudged his shoulder and took over, tightening the infernal bow. Then Alfred put his hands sheepishly back into his own dress pant pockets.

 

“I could say the same about poor Francis. He'll be stuck with you forever.”

 

Their words would sound barbed to somebody who didn't know them. An outsider might think the brother's had a poor relationship. However Alfred was never one to keep his emotions in for long and flung himself into a hug with Arthur.

 

“I'm so happy for you bro'!” said Alfred, bouncing and jostling Arthur's already roiling stomach full of nerves,”You'll be great up there.”

 

“Yes, Yes I suppose I will. Besides, Francis will probably weep and take the pressure off of me anyway.”

 

“There you go. Way to think on the bright side,” said Alfred.

 

Arthur took one last look at himself in the mirror before nodding his head at himself in approval. Then he reached into the pocket of the tweed jacket that he wore on the way there and pulled out a sheaf of papers. Arthur handed them to Alfred.

 

“What're these?” asked Alfred, unfolding them and looking them over before his gaze snapped to Arthur's, “Wha?”

 

“It would be idiocy to keep both houses for ourselves. Besides, you two were thinking of starting a family in the future weren't you?” said Arthur, not meeting his brother's eyes.

 

“But to give us your house?”

 

“It's yours now. You just need to sign those in front of your lawyer, Ludwig, and he will help you do the rest.”

 

Since Alfred was looking dangerously misty eyed, Arthur said, “Hug me again and I'll take back the deed. Francis won't let me hear the damn end of it if I get tears all over whatever 'magical' fabric this was made of that was worth the exorbitant price he paid for them.”

 

“No, dude. I wasn't gonna hug you again, like, I'm not a chick or something. I'm definitely not crying over a house, even though it's a great gift.”

 

“Good.”

 

It was then that Matthew poked his head inside and said, “It's time.”

 

#

 

Seeing Arthur walk up the aisle to him was one of the best moments of Francis' life. The man looked simply magnificent, the fabric clinging in all the right places. The tux was white, though Arthur had protested vehemently about not being a woman. He looked like a jittery angel, only keeping pace because of Alfred's arm being linked in his own. There was even a ray of sun that shone through the window and bathed Arthur in it's glow.

 

Beautiful. Flawless and the best bride he could have ever hoped for.

 

Though Francis would take those poetic musings to his grave, lest he be scalped in his sleep.

 

Francis met those perfect green eyes and smiled, wide. He held out his hand and Arthur met him, warm hand shaking. They met, both hands touching. Francis leaned in and whispered into his soon-to-be husband's ear, “It's okay. Just focus on me. Watch me, stare into my eyes.”

 

“It sounds as if you're trying to hypnotize me into wedding you,” scoffed Arthur in his too loud voice.

 

The officiant looked over at them with a smile and a risen brow, “Are you two ready to begin?”

 

Arthur's entire face turned red and so did Francis, they turned to look at their family and friends who had gathered to witness their nuptials. Everyone was watching them with varying degrees of amusement.

 

“Yes, we are quite ready. Thank you,” spoke Arthur, still managing to sound like a complete gentleman even amid his quite obvious mortification.

 

The ceremony wasn't long or drawn out. That was the one concession Francis had made to Arthur about the wedding. Francis had wanted it to be long and full of flowery language. Arthur had threatened to break off the engagement. Francis decided that a wedding wouldn't be nearly as romantic without another person to marry.

 

They exchanged wedding rings, which were bands but encrusted with diamonds. They said, “I do,” and then kissed.

 

At some point, at the apex of the reception's dancing and drunken merriment, Arthur took Francis' hand and dragged him outside.

 

“Mon cher, we are missing part of the celebrations,” said Francis, then seeing the pensive look on Arthur's face, “What's wrong?”

 

“Nothing. Just, let me speak and don't interrupt me,” said Arthur, placing his fingers upon Francis' lips.

 

Francis nodded.

 

“My parents passing away, when I was still barely a man, was one of the hardest times of my life. They may not have been the most warm of individuals, but they were my mother and father and I loved them. As you know, I also loved my brother very much, and vowed from the time he was born to always be there for him.”

 

Arthur had begun to pace and Francis placed a hand on his husband's shoulder to hopefully calm him down. Arthur took a deep breath and continued.

 

“But it was hard. God it was so damned hard. I may not have ever thought of giving him up, but I had many times of desperate praying, to a God I don't believe in, to bring back my parents to help me. There was nobody there for me. I didn't really have friends and I hadn't any more family. I felt as if I were floating in a brand new world without a life jacket.”

 

Francis really wanted to speak, but knew that if he broke Arthur's reverie, and the man might never be quite this open again.

 

“Then you came along. So imperfectly perfect with all of your damned money and your suave demeanour. Exactly the sort of man that I wanted to hate.”

 

Not knowing whether or not he should feel offended, Francis met his lover's eyes and found them soft and open, “But you saved my life. You helped me when I had nobody else and you asked for nothing in return. You helped me raise my brother even though heaven knows how much of a handful he could be. You were always there and even loving in your own infuriatingly lecherous way. I just wish that I had seen it sooner, how good we are together.”

 

Arthur pressed a kiss to Francis' forehead, “I love you Francis Bonnefoy, and I am delighted to be allowed spend the rest of my life with you.”

 

Taking Arthur's face between his hands, Francis drew his husband into a deep and loving kiss, full of tangled tongues and passionate deepness. He leaned against the side of the building, bringing Arthur to stand in front of him and they pressed together head to toe.

 

“I love you too. And I am glad that you forewent with the custom vows during the ceremony. This is much nicer.”

 

“I agree,” whispered Arthur, warm breath caressing Francis' face.

 

“Do you want to skip the rest of the reception and head to the hotel early?” said Francis, the growing bulge in his pants pressed against Arthur and he hoped it helped speak his desires.

 

“I though you'd never ask,” said Arthur.

 

#

 

“Wait? Seriously?” exclaimed Mathieu, far louder than he every normally was.

 

He and Alfred sat down in Katerina's busy living room. Kat was on the chair across from them, sipping on a tea that was kept carefully guarded between her palms. Around them ran children. There were three of them but it felt as if there were hundreds more.

 

Despite how good of a mother Katerina was and the strictness that emanated from Ludwig's every pore, the children ran wild.

 

“Of course. I loved being pregnant but I am happy with the amount of children that we have,” said Katerina, smiling fondly at her husband, who had two small children hanging off of his muscular arms, “I know you have the forms to begin the adoption process. But I thought that I should tell you first, that I'd be more than willing to be a surrogate for you two.”

 

Alfred's jaw was slack but eventually, he grabbed Mathieu's hand and said, “Is it legal?”

 

Ludwig had somehow convinced his children to go to the playroom and sat down in the chair that was beside Kat's, “Yes. It is legal. Here is the card for a fertility lawyer that I know from reputation is highly respected.”

 

Mathieu took that card and put it into his wallet. Ludwig was their usual lawyer in common matters so Matt trusted his word.

 

“Giving up a child would be hard though, wouldn't it Kat?” said Matt, feeling his hand shake.

 

He wanted to be sure that Kat thought this through but he so desperately wanted a child.

 

“Perhaps a bit. But I'd get to see them all the time as Aunt Katerina. And besides, I'd know they were going to two very loving fathers whom I trust.”

 

Matt and Al looked at each other, met eyes and knew the answer right away, “Yes, I'd love for you to do this for us.”

 

#

 

Alfred felt his face go pale as he stopped in the doorway to the room. There was a huge cup of ice-chips in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. The room was rather big, for a hospital room. Designed with lots of room to move around. In one corner was a bed that had been moved to an upright position.

 

Matt stood at the head of the bed, hand on Katerina's shoulder. A nurse was seated on a stool by Kat's spread legs and had her hand, up there.

  
“It looks as if you're at ten centimetres. You can start pushing when the doctor gets here, I will let her know that you're ready. I'll be right back,” said the nurse, snapping off her plastic gloves and putting them in the appropriate waste-bin.

 

Alfred rushed over and offered an ice-chip. Kat hadn't felt like eating any more than that. She said that eating while in labour made her feel nauseated. Alfred had been astounded that she'd go for so long without eating. After all, labour was supposed to take hours and hours.

 

Yet here they were, only three hours from getting the phone-call from Katerina telling them to meet her in the hospital and she was already at ten centimetres.

 

“Isn't this too soon?” said Matt, white knuckled grip on the bed-frame.

 

At least Alfred wasn't the only one who was stunned by this.

 

“Not...for...moms...who've...given....birth...before. Most...anywaaaays,” said Katerina, panting and trailing off at the end with a pained series of grunts.

 

Alfred shook so hard that the ice rattled in the cup, “Shit, Matt, we're going to be parents soon.”

 

“I know. I'm so nervous,” said Matt, taken to whispering again in the wake of his strong emotions.

 

“I know it's hard to deal with the nerves. But I'll help, just breath with me Matt.”

 

As Matt did so, and Alfred spoke soothing words to his lover, Katerina grabbed both of their hands in a vice-like death grip and hissed, “Stop...being...babies...and...suck it up.”

 

The nurse came back in and set up the stirrups for Katerina to have a place put her feet. Katerina sat up even more, seeming to following her instincts for gravity to help the birthing process. Then the nurse got all of the instruments set up and another nurse set up everything for the baby.

 

The doctor, finally, strolled in, as if Katerina wasn't panting, grunting and obviously desperate to push. Alfred took a peek at what the doctor was doing, setting herself up on a stool. The doctor pushed aside Kat's hospital gown completely.

 

Before the day of labour, Kat had told both Matt and Alfred that they could feel free to look all they wanted during the birthing process. She didn't want them to miss any part of the baby being born if they didn't want to. Alfred had always heard about how scary looking birth was. So far it seemed okay. Just another vulva, a bit swollen and blood of course. Nothing too bad.

 

Then Kat began to push with the contractions.

 

There was a mirror set up so that the mother could see the birth, so Matt could stand beside Kat, holding her hand while watching. Alfred noted the look of awe on his lover's face. No disgust.

 

When Alfred saw the head begin to crown, he felt nausea and wanted to throw up the burger he'd eaten for lunch. How was it stretching like that? How? That was natural? How was Kat doing this without the drugs? The whatsit...epurdel? Epitaral? Whatever.

 

Alfred didn't know. There was so much more blood. He wanted to vomit.

 

If he hadn't already sworn off other people in a vow of monogamy to Matthew, he would have then and there. Alfred wasn't sure he could look at a vagina the same way again.

 

Yet then, more of the head came out and the bloody scalp with faint fuzz had eyes. They were closed, of course, but it made the rest of the surroundings fade away.

 

Alfred became focused on that little face, scrunched up and uncomfortable in the process of trying to meet his or her new world.

 

Soon the whole head was out, then, with a cry of pain from Kat, the shoulders popped out. Soon after, the rest of the baby slid free.

 

The baby, slimy, goopy, gross and so beautiful. A little girl.

 

A nurse took the baby to the little station they'd set up. Alfred followed, transfixed. He vaguely heard Matthew call over to the nurses something about 'vernix' and not wiping it off yet. Alfred hadn't read the tons of baby books that Matt had, so had no idea what that was. But he didn't really care.

 

Because his little girl had opened her eyes, all shiny, unfocused and blue. She had the most adorable pert nose that wrinkled just before she let out an ear-piercing wail.

 

So cute.

 

The nurses hovered around her while they performed various tests. Alfred went closer and slipped his finger into that chubby one.

 

“Oh wow! She's so strong. And her eyes are blue. More like yours Matt,” exclaimed Alfred, quiet enough so as not to start his daughter.

 

He laughed heartily. A daughter.

 

“Babies tend to be born with blue eyes. They could change,” said Matt, looking to be desperate to go over and see their child.

 

Matt was still beside Kat, holding her hand and wiping sweat from her brow. She was reclining as the doctor helped deliver the placenta.

 

“Go ahead Matt, I'll be fine. My sister should be here soon enough to help and Ludwig too. Go get to know your little girl,” said Kat, yawning as she spoke.

 

“Are you sure? Because I can stay here for longer,” said Matt, already shuffling his feet to get closer to the warmed bassinet.

 

“Go or I'll never speak to you again,” whispered Kat with a faint smile as she began to nod off.

 

Matt leaned down and pressed a kiss to his friend's forehead and then just about ran over to Alfred.

 

Alfred wrapped an arm around Matt's shoulders and smiled.

 

Neither of them knew whose daughter she would be. They were planning on using the 'turkey baster method' with a needle-free syringe. However as soon as Francis found that out, he insisted on paying for the procedure in a clinical setting. There, two of them had mixed their sperm before it went into Kat.

 

It didn't matter, and Alfred and Matt were both blond and blue-eyed anyway and so was Katerina. So really, nobody would probably be able to tell who her biological father was even if they wanted.

 

“So what should her name be?” whispered Matt as a nurse finally bundled up their daughter up tight.

 

“She looks like a little burrito,” said Alfred, transfixed as he held the now sleeping infant.

 

“Kind of, but we need a name. Now she's here and we still haven't decided.”

 

“I still say Captia-”

 

“No.”

 

“But come on, nobody else would have it as a name.”

 

“We already have a cat named Captain America. And if you name our daughter that I'll divorce you,” said Matt, so quiet and not at all upset as he reached out to stroke a finger down that so soft cheek of their kid.

 

“You can't divorce me, we aren't married yet.”

 

“Whatever, I'll do something.”

 

“So...fine, how about Amelia?”

 

“Madeline?”

 

Alfred grinned, “Madeline Amelia Kirkland-Bonnefoy.”

 

“Sounds good at me.”

 

#

 

Secretly, Alfred and Mathieu had bet on Francis bursting into tears when he saw his granddaughter for the first time. They'd been sure of it.

 

So when it was Arthur who began to cry, not even turning around to hide his face, Alfred, Mathieu and Francis were stunned to silence. Arthur didn't even appear to care that he was being gawked at. He just stared down in the same sort of awe that Alfred first had on his face when Madeline had been born.

 

“I know that she's technically my niece, but I'll always see her as a granddaughter,” said Arthur, who seemed to be more talking to the baby than asking the opinion of the adults.

 

Francis, after realizing that his husband had no intention on relinquishing his hold on the child any time soon, went upstairs. The man came down with a mountain of presents.

 

Half of the gifts were various sizes of baby fashion, some of which was handmade though Francis was so good at what he did that it was hard to tell the two kinds apart. There was enough in different sizes to last for several months. It was also mostly gender-neutral, since they hadn't known the babies' gender until it was born. At least his Papa hadn't made or bought only newborn sizes. Mathieu didn't have the heart to mention that Madeline would spend most of her time in onesies and sleepers.

 

Mathieu actually sort of felt sorry for his daughter. She would, without a doubt, be used as a living doll for Francis.

 

Madeline broke Mathieu out of his thoughts by letting out a wail that filled the room. She needed to be fed and he must have missed her hungry snuffles.

 

“She must be Alfred's. She has his loudness,” chuckled Arthur, taking a bottle of some of the breast milk that Kat had been pumping.

 

Awkwardly bringing the bottle to Madeline's lips, some of the milk dripped down her chin before she greedily sucked it into her mouth.

 

Francis tutted, took a burp cloth and wiped Madeline's face, “You're so messy Arthur, really.”

 

Alfred perched on the other side of the chair and petted those barely there fine hairs on the baby's head.

 

Mathieu sat on the other end of the room and basked. This was beautiful. All of his family, together in one room.

 

They might be slightly dysfunctional and more than a bit weird. But they were his weird family.

 

And Mathieu couldn't be happier.

 

 

 

Epilogue- Five years later

 

Madeline ran out into her backyard when her parents weren't watching, little tears bubbling up in her eyes and running down her cheeks.

 

Both Papa and Daddy were so mean. She hadn't known that those markers were permanent.

 

She also didn't know that washing them out of cat fur was hard.

 

She just wanted Captain America the kitty to be blue, white and red like the hero that was in Daddy's comic books. He was already white, so she'd coloured his fur with blue and red markers while kitty napped.

 

Madeline didn't like being scolded and told that she was a bad girl.

 

She ran outside and into the bushes to hide. She made sure to be on the side that wasn't right next to grandpa Arthur and grand-père Francis' house so that they didn't find her.

 

While she sniffled, she heard a soft rushing from the other side of the fence. She peeked through a hole in the wooden slates of the fence, and saw a little boy on the other side. He had white hair that was nearly a cool silver. When he looked up at her with teary eyes, she gasped.

 

“Your eyes look purplish,” said Madeline.

 

“No they aren't. They're just a weird blue,” said the boy, who must have been about her age.

 

With tears drying on her cheeks, she said, “They are purple for sure. Are you a super hero?”

 

“Huh?”

 

“A super hero like Captain America or Batman or Superman or the 'vengers!” said Madeline, bouncing in place.

 

“No. I'm just me, Emil.”

 

“Hi Emil. I'm Madeline. Wait, why were you crying?”

 

He shrugged, “You were cryin' too.”

 

“Well that's because I coloured the cat and my daddy got mad. What about you?”

 

“My mommy moved us here from Norway to be with my daddy.”

 

“You miss home?”

 

“Yeah. Um, are your parents both daddies?” asked Emil, softly.

 

“Yep. They're awesome. But how'd you know?”

 

“My daddy went to your daddy's house to 'pologize for something he did in higher school. Mommy saided that he had to 'cause he'd been mean to your daddies and if he didn't she would make him sleep on the sofa.”

 

Madeline blinked, “That's confusing. Wanna play with my Barbies and Action figures?”

 

Emil nodded and stopped sniffling, “Okay.”

 

Madeline ran to meet Emil at the end of the fence in their front lawn. She grabbed his hand and dragged him to her home.

 

She just knew that they'd be the bestest friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, in case in you didn't know. Emil is Iceland and his parents are Luka (Nyo!Norway) and Matthias (Denmark).
> 
> Goodbye and hope to see you on whatever my next fic will be.


End file.
